


Resurrection

by BangAndBlame_Archivist



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen, Post-Gauda Prime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-14
Updated: 2003-03-14
Packaged: 2018-12-20 02:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11911737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BangAndBlame_Archivist/pseuds/BangAndBlame_Archivist
Summary: by Kaelar





	1. There's No One as Free as a Dead Man

**Author's Note:**

> Note from oracne, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Bang and Blame](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Bang_and_Blame), a Blake’s 7 archive, which has been offline for several years. To keep the works available for readers and scholars, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after June 2017. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Bang and Blame collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/BangAndBlame/profile).
> 
>  
> 
> originally published in ROADS NOT TAKEN (1991)

The small contingent of troops, both human and mutoid, who had been stationed on the outskirts of the base on Star One responded immediately when the first explosions detonated. After seeing the destruction, the commander immediately issued an order to evacuate the base before it was completely consumed.

 

A mutoid ran by an open doorway just as the energy pit within the room exploded. She glanced into the room as she picked her way through the huge concrete slabs that nearly blocked the passageway. After scrambling over the last obstacle, she noticed what appeared to be an arm stretching out from behind a pile of debris. She went to investigate.

 

What she found was a man buried from the waist down by rubble. His face was totally obscured by blood, and his left arm was a shattered mass of metal and circuitry. She knelt quickly and found the man's pulse. It was weak and thready, but he was still alive. The radiation burns covering the man's body led her to believe he had been in the room, and very close to the pit, when it had exploded. She began removing the slabs and supports that pinned the man's legs. Another huge explosion shook the base, and a threatening rumble filled the air.

 

She finally threw the last block off. Carefully, she picked the man up and exited the room. As she left the building, she spotted a ship. She rushed towards it, but the hatch was closing.

 

"Wait!" she called. The man inside the doorway stopped the closing door to watch impassively as she ran closer.

 

"No room for mutoids," he yelled harshly. The hatch began to close again.

 

"I've got an injured man!" she cried desperately. Again the hatch stopped, then it slowly opened. The trooper met her at the bottom of the ramp. He looked at the man she carried.

 

"He's dead! Now move back; we're taking off!"

 

The mutoid pressed the man into the trooper's arms. "He's alive, but just barely," she said. "He needs immediate medical attention."

 

The trooper looked at the unconscious form once again, and a flicker of recognition crossed his face. "All right, I'll take him." He started up the ramp, then turned when he heard footsteps behind him. "I said, no room for mutoids!" He savagely kicked her, sending her tumbling down the ramp. Then he entered the ship and closed the hatch.

 

The trooper fumbled for the intercom button. "We're clear for takeoff," he announced. "I need some help down here with an injured man."

 

"Acknowledged," a voice replied. "We'll get someone down there as soon as we've cleared the planet."

 

The ship began to shake as the engines were fired up. The trooper sat against the wall, bracing himself with one hand and holding on to the injured man with his other hand as the ship took off. It lurched crazily as he tried to stand. "What's going on?" he shouted to the two med assistants rounding the corner.

 

"I'm not sure," one of the men replied. "I think it's the Andromedans. Somehow they broke through the minefield, and now we're fighting for our lives!"

 

The second man was kneeling beside the casualty. "Who's this?" he asked as he examined him. "He's more dead than alive."

 

The trooper replied, "I think it's Travis."

 

"Not  _the_  Travis?" the second man exclaimed. "Isn't he wanted by the Federation? Are you sure it's him?"

 

"Yea," the trooper affirmed. "Who else would have an arm like that," he pointed to the remains of the artificial limb, "and an eye like this?" He wiped the blood off the man's face to reveal the tattered remains of an eyepatch partially covering a mass of scar tissue.

 

"There's a reward for him, isn't there?" the first man asked.

 

"A substantial one," the trooper said, "if we can keep him alive long enough to claim it. Dead bodies don't bring much."

 

"Well," said the second man, "we'd better get to work on him right away. He's not going to last much longer in this condition." The two men carefully picked Travis up and carried him to the medical unit, followed closely by the trooper.

 

Hours later, the doctor and the two assistants walked out of the med unit. Fen, the trooper, was waiting. "How is he?" he asked.

 

"Oh, he'll survive," the doctor replied. "But I don't know how. He's got a bad concussion and received massive amounts of radiation, not to mention the injuries to his face, and he's been shot twice. Both his legs are badly broken. I've patched him up as best I can, and he's on life support."

 

"Just as long as he stays alive until we reach a Federation post," said Fen. "Then it's up to them if he's worth salvaging or not."

 

The doctor turned to his assistants. "One of you keep watch over him at all times. He's still unstable. I'm going to get some sleep," he finished as he left.

 

The first man, Zel, spoke. "Looks like we've got a reward coming our way."

 

"Yeah," added Mathias, the second man. "I checked the computer. There's a hundred-thousand-credit bounty on him alive."

 

"Keep him alive, and I might split it with you," said Fen.

 

"You'll split it with us, or all you'll take back is a corpse," threatened Zel.

 

"Of course," smiled Fen. "Can't you guys take a joke?" He sauntered off.

 

"We'll have to watch him," stated Mathias. "Carefully."

 

 

 

Two days later, the ship changed course in response to a priority one signal from Chenga, requesting they stop and pick up an important passenger.

 

They arrived at Chenga the next day and an escort of troops, including Fen, disembarked to meet their passenger. They found her outside of a building where she waited, alone. Captain Lizer stopped, surprised. "Supreme Commander! What are you doing here?"

 

"I'll explain it later," she said quickly. "Let's get off this planet first."

 

As soon as they were underway, Servalan asked, "How is the battle with the Andromedans going?"

 

"I haven't heard," replied Captain Lizer. "We were the first ship to Star One. We landed in hopes of reactivating the minefield; however, it was too late. A few other ships had the same idea but were destroyed by the Andromedans from the base. All the survivors came to my ship, including the wounded. I'm taking the ship to the nearest Federation post to get medical help and repairs."

 

"Good," said Servalan. "I'll need somewhere to stay until we reach the base."

 

"You'll have my quarters, of course," replied Lizer. "I'll have the room prepared immediately."

 

 

 

Servalan was resting in the captain's quarters when someone knocked on the door.

 

"Enter," she called. One of the troopers who had met her on Chenga stepped into the room.

 

"I hope I'm not disturbing you, Supreme Commander," he began.

 

"That depends on what you have to say," said Servalan.

 

Fen swallowed. "There's someone in the med unit I think you'd be very interested in seeing," he said.

 

"Oh?" mused Servalan. "What makes you think that?"

 

"A hundred-thousand-credit bounty," replied Fen.

 

"A hundred thousand," repeated Servalan thoughtfully. "Yes, I believe I would be interested in seeing this person. Lead the way."

 

As they entered the med unit, Zel looked up, surprised to find himself in the company of the Supreme Commander.

 

"Is he still alive?" asked Fen.

 

"Of course," answered Zel somewhat defensively. He stepped back as Servalan made her way to the bed on which Travis lay.

 

His eyes were completely covered in bandages, as was most of his left side. The remains of the artificial arm had been removed. Both legs were enclosed in temporary casts, and a machine monitored his heartbeat.

 

"Well," Fen broke the silence. "Is it him?"

 

"Travis!" Servalan said quietly, then quickly turned to Fen. "Where did you find him?" she demanded.

 

"On Star One," Fen explained, nervous again. "A mutoid brought him to the ship."

 

"Where is this mutoid?" asked Servalan.

 

"She, uh, didn't make it onto the ship. She was killed in an explosion before she could board."

 

"I see," said Servalan. She stared at Fen for a few moments, then turned to Zel. "How badly is he injured?"

 

"He's been shot in the chest and back," began Zel, "and he's had a bad concussion and facial injuries. Both legs are broken, and his artificial arm was destroyed. We're keeping him on life support until we can get to better facilities. We don't have the equipment here to take care of such extensive injuries."

 

"But he is salvageable?" Servalan pressed.

 

Zel shrugged. "We'll be to Gaitlin soon," he said. "If he doesn't get any worse before we get there, they should be able to patch him back together. He shouldn't be alive at all," Zel concluded. "But he's a fighter."

 

"Yes, I know," said Servalan. "I'm going back to my quarters. You," she ordered Zel, "tell the doctor to inform the medics on Gaitlin of his condition so they can start on him immediately we land." With that she strode out of the room.

 

Fen let out his breath. "Whew!"

 

"Did you ask her about the reward?" asked Zel.

 

Fen gave him a disgusted look. "I don't think it would've been a good time to discuss money," he said. He looked at Travis. "I wonder what she has in store for him?"

 

Zel shrugged. "It's none of our business."

 

 

 

As soon as they had landed on Gaitlin, a medical team boarded the ship. As they were transferring Travis to hospital, Servalan spoke to the doctor. "I want you to get in contact with me before you do anything to him. Is that clear?" He nodded. "Good. I'll be in the commander's office."

 

 

 

Servalan was conferring with the commander on the progress of the Andromedan battle when the doctor's call came through. Excusing herself, she left to meet with the medic. "Well," she asked, cutting short his intended greeting. "How is he?"

 

"We can still save his right eye; he should retain complete vision in it. The wounds to his beck and chest have already begun healing and require no special care beyond what's already been done. He has advanced radiation sickness, which can easily be cured. His left leg is broken and will need to be set, but his right leg will require surgery to rebuild the crushed knee. It too will heal completely with time."

 

"How long will it be before he can return to duty?"

 

"At least two or three months," answered the doctor. "The main problem will be working with the rebuilt knee. It will be some time before he can walk comfortably. Also, there's the problem of his artificial arm..."

 

"That won't be your concern," interrupted Servalan. "The weapons department can handle that. How long will it be until I can talk to him?"

 

"If we begin immediately, we should be done by the end of the day. We'll need to keep him sedated for at least two days; so he should be ready to talk in three days," replied the doctor.

 

"Perfect," said Servalan. "I'll be here at least a week reorganizing our forces. You are to contact me immediately upon his regaining consciousness. Oh, and there's one other thing..."

* * *

 

Travis was hot, tired, hungry, and thirsty, not necessarily in that order. He and his men had been hiding in this stinking hole for two days now. His hair was plastered to his forehead and sweat continually dripped off his chin, causing an annoying itch. He wondered when those blasted rebels were going to show. He could tell his troops were getting restless; who could blame them?

 

He had just shifted to a slightly more comfortable position when a scout approached him. "Sir, they're coming!" he whispered. Travis could see the men around him look up eagerly.

 

"Is everyone in position?" he asked. The scout nodded. "Then tell them to prepare to advance, but on my orders only. Go!" The scout left and Travis stood against the wall, listening intently. Soon he heard voices.

 

After a while, the voices stopped, then a single voice resumed speaking. That had to be him. Travis took a last look at his men and saw that they were ready. He nodded, and they ran down the hall, towards the rebels' meeting room. He heard the shouts of surprise as his troops quickly surrounded the insurrectionists. He strode into the room.

 

A young man with hopelessly tousled hair approached him. "We want to surrender," he said. "We have no weapons."

 

"So," Travis sneered. "You must be Blake."

 

"I am," the man answered, unafraid.

 

"We only do one thing with rebels," Travis said. Blake stepped back, somehow sensing what was about to happen.

 

"Begin!" Travis ordered.

 

Immediately, the Federation troopers began firing on the helpless people. Travis watched impassively as they were killed in the crossfire. As he watched, he saw Blake go down, and he smiled. He also saw a woman running toward a door and he shouted, alerting a trooper, who shot her. Before Travis could turn back, he was hit in his upper arm.

 

The smell of his burnt flesh filled his nostrils seconds before the pain registered. He fell to his knees and clasped his arm to his side. It had nearly been severed. He looked up, and that's when he saw Blake, kneeling awkwardly on one knee, a gun aimed at Travis. He saw Blake's finger pull the trigger and he desperately threw himself to one side.

 

The bolt glanced off the left side of his face. There was a blinding flash in his left eye, then nothing. He landed on his side, then rolled slowly over onto his back. For a while, he didn't know how long, he blacked out.

 

The sound of voices shouting brought him back to consciousness. He focused on listening to them, anything to take his mind off the agony he was enduring.

 

"Are any of them still alive?" his first officer asked.

 

"Only one," came the reply. "Should we kill him?"

 

"No! That's Blake, their leader. They'll want him alive. Take him away."

 

Blake alive! Travis was pleased. Maybe, if he lived, he would be able to personally question Blake. The left side of his face was burning. He could feel the blood running down his cheek and dripping into his ear. He tried unsuccessfully to move.

 

A voice above him spoke. "Sir! It's Commander Travis!" He felt a hand on his neck. "He's still alive!"

 

"Get that medic in here immediately!" the first officer ordered. Within moments, a medic was by Travis's side. He began wiping the blood off Travis's face, and the commander groaned as new agony shot through him. He moved his head slightly to one side.

 

"Get him on the stretcher," ordered the medic. "Be careful of his arm!" A wave of nausea hit Travis as he was lifted onto the stretcher and again he lost consciousness.

 

When he awoke, he heard the medic speaking. "This is Maryatt. I need emergency service ready. We're coming in with Commander Travis and should arrive in six minutes."

 

Soon the transport stopped and Travis could feel himself being wheeled down a hail. He felt thick bandages around his head, but his left arm was numb. Suddenly they stopped.

 

"How's it look?" asked the doctor in charge.

 

"He's lost his left eye; I think I've stopped it bleeding. But I can't do anything with his arm. It's been practically shot off, and the bleeding won't stop. I'm going to have to amputate it. Make sure he's not conscious," Maryatt said.

 

Travis struggled violently to move, to say something. They couldn't take his arm! He felt a mask being placed over his nose and mouth. He tried to hold his breath, but couldn't. He felt himself getting groggy.  _No!_  he screamed in his mind as he began to drift into unconsciousness.  _Not my arm! NO!_

 

* * *

 

The doctor and his assistant ran to Travis's side as he screamed. "No! Please, not my arm!" The doctor tried to hold Travis down as he spoke to his assistant.

 

"Get me a sedative!" he ordered. "Quickly, before he hurts himself." The assistant started off, but stopped as Travis spoke again.

 

"Wait! No sedative. I'm all right." He collapsed weakly back onto the bed, drenched in sweat from his nightmare. "What's happened?" he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Where am I?"

 

The doctor turned and told his assistant, "Bring him some water, then get a message to the Supreme Commander that he's awake." The assistant brought a cup of water to the doctor, then left to contact Servalan. "I'm Malachi," the doctor said as he lifted Travis's head. "Here, drink this. I imagine your throat is pretty dry." He held the water to Travis's lips. Travis grabbed the cup and eagerly gulped the water, not caring that some of it ran down his chin. "Easy, take it easy!" Malachi said.

 

Travis sighed deeply. "Where am I?" he repeated, his voice stronger. "What's wrong with me? I can't see or move my legs."

 

"Just relax and I'll explain," replied Malachi. "We don't know how this happened to you, but you were apparently in an explosion of some kind. You nearly lost your good eye, and you've broken both legs and crushed your right knee. You've also been shot twice. Do you remember what happened?"

 

Travis clenched his fist. "Blake," he said.

 

"Blake?" Servalan had entered the room. "Don't tell me he outsmarted you again?"

 

"Servalan," Travis stated, turning toward her voice.

 

"Hello, Travis," she said. "You've changed since we last saw each other." She ran a finger up and down his arm. "What happened on Star One?"

 

"Blake arrived before I did," Travis began. "He tried to pass himself off as me, but I shot and killed him, or so I thought. The Andromedans had taken over Star One. They were going to disengage the minefield. I tried to stop them, but before I could do anything, I was shot in the back. By Blake." Travis gritted his teeth at the memory. "Avon came in and was helping Blake. I tried to kill them, but my gun arm wouldn't work. Then Avon shot me. That's all I remember."

 

Servalan was silent for a moment. "You're saying Blake is responsible for letting the Andromedans through?" she asked.

 

"Yes," Travis lied. "Blake and Avon. Are they still alive? What about  _Liberator_?"

 

"Avon is alive," replied Servalan. "I encountered him on Sarran. I assume  _Liberator_  is still intact as well, since he was able to teleport off the planet."

 

"And Blake?" Travis questioned.

 

"We don't know."

 

"Why did you save my life?" Travis asked abruptly.

 

"That should be obvious. Avon still has Orac, and I want it. There isn't anyone to spare to go after him; not after our losses in the war. It's a simple matter of letting you continue your job."

 

"When?"

 

Servalan looked at Malachi, who answered, "Not for a couple of months at least. You'll have to get used to walking with your rebuilt knee, and we have to get you another arm as well."

 

"I'll be out in a month," Travis said. Before the doctor could protest, he went on, "I want these blasted bandages off my eye now, and then I'll need to talk to someone in the weaponry department about building my arm."

 

Malachi looked at Servalan, who smiled slightly. "Do as he says." The doctor shrugged and began unwrapping the bandages from Travis's head.

 

"Your eye isn't completely healed yet," he warned. "You'll have trouble seeing for a few days." Travis just grunted. Finally, the bandages were off.

 

A red welt ran from Travis's eyebrow across the corner of his eye down his cheek, then disappeared into his hair, which had been singed unevenly by the explosion. He blinked a few times at the bright lights.

 

"Can you see?" Malachi asked.

 

Travis looked at him. He could see, but everything was blurry. He turned to stare at Servalan. "You haven't changed since we last met," he said sarcastically. She was looking at the remains of his left eye, which was a misshapen mass of pale scar tissue and a sunken area where his eyeball should have been. She turned to Malachi.

 

"He'll need an eyepatch," she said.

 

"Of course," he replied. "I'll get to work on one immediately." He left the room.

 

Travis watched him leave, then spoke. "Bothers you, doesn't it?"

 

"What?" Servalan asked, looking at him again.

 

"This." Travis touched the scars on the left side of his face, trying to gauge her reactions through his blurred sight.

 

"Of course not!" she snapped, but again she looked away. Travis grinned widely.

 

Servalan broke the ensuing silence. "As soon as you're able, I want you to go after Avon."

 

"Naturally," replied Travis. "But there are a few things we need to straighten out now. I won't be used by you anymore. If I go after them, I do it my way. No interference from you or anyone else. Once you have Orac,  _Liberator_  is mine."

 

"Anything you say," agreed Servalan. "But what about Blake?"

 

"Blake is personal," Travis said in an icy voice. "If he's still alive, I'll take care of him...myself."

 

"When you're ready, get in touch with me through this," Servalan said, handing him a small communicator. "I have its twin--it can only be picked up by mine, and receive from mine. I don't want anyone to know you're alive." Just then Malachi walked into the room, carrying a small metal tray. "Anyone," she emphasized. She stood to leave. "My ship departs tonight," she said as she walked out the door. "I expect to hear from you soon."

 

"Oh, you will," Travis promised after she was gone.

 

In the hallway, Servalan was met by Fen, Zel, and Mathias. "Supreme Commander," said Fen. "Our ship leaves within the hour, and we were wondering about the reward for Travis." They looked at her expectantly.

 

"Ah, yes," she said. "One hundred thousand, wasn't it?" They nodded. "I'll see that it's delivered to you on the ship." She walked off.

 

Zel smiled as the trio headed down the hall. "What's one-third of a hundred thousand?" he wondered aloud.

 

"You mean one-fourth, don't you?" said Fen. "We split it fifty-fifty. Half for me, half for you two."

 

"Now, wait a minute!" argued Mathias. "That wasn't the deal!" They continued to argue as they rounded a corner out of sight.

* * *

 

Malachi carefully fitted the eyepatch over what used to be Travis's left eye. He stepped back. "Done," he announced. "How is it?"

 

"It's fine," Travis answered disinterestedly. "What about my arm?"

 

"The weapons technician will be in later today. I have to fit you with the arm before they can begin work on it. And," he held up his hand before Travis could speak, "we'll be doing that after you've eaten and rested. If you expect to leave here in a month, you'd better do as I say."

 

Travis looked as though he wanted to argue, but he was exhausted. He finally nodded in agreement. "Good," Malachi said. "I'll have some food sent in." He left, and moments later his assistant brought in some food. Travis picked at it, managing to eat a few bites before pushing it away and exclaiming he wasn't hungry. Malachi's assistant, Namon, took the tray and left, turning off the lights as he did. Left in the darkness, Travis soon drifted off to sleep.

 

Not long afterwards he was awakened by a voice over the intercom, calling for all medical personnel to go to the landing bay on the double. Drowsily, he wondered what was going on, but fell asleep again before he could pursue the thought further.

 

A bright light woke him again hours later. Malachi had come in, Namon behind him pushing a box. The doctor and his assistant looked exhausted.

 

"What happened earlier?" Travis wondered. "I heard a call for all medics to go to the landing bay."

 

"There was a crash," explained Malachi. "One of our ships had just taken off, but blew up right after it cleared the bay. A few men lived through the crash, but not for long."

 

"Which ship was it?" asked Travis.

 

"The one you were brought in on," replied Malachi. He helped Namon open the box as Travis reflected on this bit of news. Servalan had been serious when she'd said she wanted no one to know Travis was alive. She'd just killed a shipful of troopers to make sure of it. His thoughts were interrupted by Malachi.

 

"We need to move you up to a sitting position," he said, pressing a button that raised the bed. "All right?" Malachi asked. Travis nodded. Malachi lifted out the artificial arm from the opened box. "I have to program the circuitry to respond to you," he explained. "It shouldn't take long."

 

A short time later, he made one final adjustment. "How does it feel?" he asked.

 

Travis looked at his new arm. "It hurts!" he said.

 

"Oh, it will," said Malachi. "At least until you get used to it. Now, try to move your hand. I have to make sure everything is correctly connected."

 

Travis concentrated, and his hand moved slightly.

 

"Good. Now it's ready for the weapons technicians." Malachi detached the arm, placing it and his instruments back inside the box. "When they're through, it will be a simple matter of reconnecting the circuitry again. Then it will be up to you to make it work. There's a technician waiting outside now. I'll send him in to talk to you and take this," he indicated the artificial arm, "back to the lab so they can get right to work on it. Come, Namon." And Travis was left to explain to the technician what he wanted done.

 

Two days later, Malachi returned with the artificial arm. He found Travis sitting up in the bed, trying unsuccessfully to shift his legs. "Those casts come off next," he said. Travis looked up at him. "But first, let's get your arm on." He reattached the arm. "I'm leaving the firing mechanism undone. I don't want you accidentally blowing a hole in the wall while you're learning to use this." Travis gave him an icy look, which the medic ignored. "Work with it," he ordered. "That's the only way it will stop hurting. We'll start on your legs in the morning."

 

Travis spent the rest of the day concentrating on making his new arm do what he wanted it to do, falling asleep late that night still practicing.

 

When Malachi and Namon entered his room the next morning, Travis was already awake, still experimenting with his arm. "Made any progress?" asked Malachi.

 

"Some," Travis replied. "It doesn't hurt as much."

 

Malachi nodded. "Now we start on getting your legs functional again. We're going to take both casts off, but we'll have to put a brace on your knee. Hopefully we'll have you up and moving, with some help, in a few days."

 

"How bad is my knee?" Travis asked as they began removing the cast on his right leg.

 

"It was crushed," answered Malachi. "We had to completely rebuild it. It's going to be difficult to grow accustomed to." They had the cast off, revealing a knee swollen and red, and proceeded to fit a padded brace around it. "It's up to you on how fast you progress with it." They took the cast off his other leg. "Now, let's see you move this leg."

 

Travis did so, with surprising ease. "Good," said Malachi. "It's practically healed. We'll have you on your feet day after tomorrow."

 

True to his word, Malachi had Travis standing two days later, supported on either side by the medic and his assistant. He swayed unsteadily and rested most of his weight on his left leg, angry at being so helpless--and impatient, too. "When can I walk?" Travis asked.

 

"You can try now, if you want to," Malachi replied.

 

"Of course I want to!" Travis snapped. With their help, he managed to stumble a few steps, mostly dragging his right leg. By the time they got him back to the bed he was pale and exhausted.

 

Malachi regarded his patient critically. "I've done all I can; the rest of your rehabilitation is up to you. You must exercise the damaged leg to accustom the muscles and tendons to working with the rebuilt knee, and you need to build up your strength as well. Just take it easy for the first couple of days." With that final bit of advice, he and Namon left.

 

Travis spent the next two weeks walking continuously around the confines of his room, gradually increasing the usefulness of his damaged leg. He worked with such fierce devotion that he hardly took the time to eat or rest. On the rare occasion when he did crawl into bed, the constant--but decreasing--pain prevented sleep from coming easily. During the entire time, Namon brought his food, but he didn't see Malachi at all.

 

Finally, Malachi decided that Travis had had enough time to himself. He entered his patient's room to find the ex-space commander dozing in a chair, hair disheveled and the stubbly beginnings of a beard covering his face. The offending right leg was stretched out in front of him.

 

"Good morning!" Malachi said loudly. Travis jerked awake and stared at him angrily. "Made much progress?"

 

"Enough," grunted Travis.

 

"Enough to make it outside?" Travis looked puzzled. "I thought you might want to try the weapon in your arm a few times before you leave us." Travis stood. "I'll have some clothes sent in as soon as I connect the circuitry to the firing mechanism." As Malachi worked, Namon brought Travis's clothes. The two left Travis struggling to get dressed on his own. Finally, he called for Malachi. "I need help getting this brace on," Travis admitted.

 

Malachi looked at the brace, then at Travis. "I think you can walk without it," he said, turning to leave.

 

"You've forgotten something," Travis said. He handed Malachi the Federation emblem from his uniform. "I'm no longer entitled to wear this," he sneered. "Not that I would anyway," he muttered as he limped out the door. Malachi stared at the discarded emblem in his hand, then caught up to Travis so he could lead the way outside.

 

Travis practiced firing his gun arm for several hours as Malachi watched. Since it worked as his old one had, he was able to master it quickly. Finally satisfied, Travis walked back to the base, Malachi following. He stumbled on some rough ground and fell, and Malachi moved to help him. Travis waved him away.

 

"I can do it myself!" he said savagely as he struggled to stand. He finally succeeded, but the effort left him sweating. He limped on toward the base.

 

They walked in silence, but Malachi spoke when they reached the door to the base. "There's nothing wrong with accepting help, if you need it," he said. "You can find your room from here, can't you?" He walked away, leaving Travis standing at the door.

 

After taking one wrong turn, Travis did finally make it to his room. He collapsed in the chair and rested a moment, unconsciously rubbing his knee. The communicator Servalan had given him began beeping. He looked at it in surprise, then picked it up and answered it. "Yes?

 

"I hope you've recovered sufficiently," came Servalan's voice. "I've sent a ship to pick you up. Avon and  _Liberator_  are somewhere near Earth."

 

"How do you know?" asked Travis.

 

"We'll talk about it when you've boarded my vessel. The ship will be there in one hour. Be ready." She cut off communications.

 

Travis set the communicator down and smiled. Avon must be getting desperate. He'd have to ask Servalan why she hadn't managed to capture him; hadn't she belittled him enough when Blake had escaped him? He called Malachi to his room.

 

"I'm leaving," he said as the medic walked in. "I need you to check my arm once more. Make sure it's working properly."

 

Malachi flipped open a panel on the arm and checked it. "Are you sure you're ready?" he asked.

 

"Of course," replied Travis. Malachi closed the panel.

 

"Everything's in order," he said. "When do you leave?"

 

"Soon," Travis answered evasively. He felt slightly awkward. "Will I always have this limp?" he asked.

 

"No, you'll eventually be able to walk normally."

 

Travis nodded. "Good." He made for the door, then stopped, turning back to Malachi as he remembered Servalan's words-- _'I don't want anyone to know you're alive'_ \--and the crashed ship, the one he'd been brought in on. Abruptly, he wasn't looking at Malachi anymore, but Maryatt. He shook his head.

 

"I'm only going to say this once," he began, "so listen well. You've got to get out of here, you and Namon. You'll be killed if you stay."

 

Malachi stared at him. "What do you mean?"

 

"You know I'm alive," Travis explained. "A whole shipful of people have already died because of that knowledge."

 

"But surely we won't be killed. We're the only medics on this base with any real experience."

 

"That doesn't matter," Travis said as he walked out the door. "If you want to live, you'd better get out now."

 

"Travis!" Malachi shouted after him as he limped down the hallway. "Thank you!" Travis didn't turn; he just kept walking. Malachi ran to get Namon--he felt they didn't have much time.

 

Travis reached the landing bay and leaned against a wall, resting as he waited for his transport to arrive. He wondered briefly why he'd warned Malachi of Servalan's plans. He finally decided it was a way, though useless now, of repaying Maryatt. He could have--should have--saved Maryatt's family from Servalan's treachery, but his obsession to kill Blake had been more important. It was too late for them now.

 

While he pursued these thoughts, a ship entered the bay, and it wasn't until it had landed that Travis took notice of it. As he watched, four mutoids, two male and two female, exited the ship. The two females headed his way, while the two males left the landing bay.

 

The mutoids stopped before him. "Space Commander Travis?" one of them asked.

 

"I'm Travis," he said, deliberately omitting the title.

 

"We're here to take you to President Servalan," she said.

 

"I know that," said Travis sarcastically. He made his way to the ship and the two mutoids followed. "Where did those two go?" he asked, motioning to the door through which the male mutoids had gone.

 

"They are acting on the President's orders. They will not be returning with us." Travis nodded, outwardly showing no response, but inwardly hoping that Malachi had heeded his words. They boarded the ship and took off immediately. As they traveled through space, Travis sat and watched the stars. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed space travel, and looked forward to the time when once again he'd be in command of a ship. It wouldn't be long.

 

 

 

Servalan waited in her quarters, growing a little impatient. Her communicator beeped for attention. "Yes?" she answered.

 

"The transport ship has returned," a voice informed her.

 

"Good!" exclaimed Servalan. "Have the mutoids escort their passenger to my quarters immediately." She sat back and waited again. Soon, the door opened and Travis limped in.

 

She was startled at the change in him. He was twenty pounds lighter. The scar across his right eye and cheek only made the startling blueness of his eye stand out more, and the beard gave him a slightly feral appearance. He crossed to stand in front of her desk.

 

Travis stared at Servalan. There was a nasty bruise on the side of her face. "What happened to you?" he asked.

 

She unconsciously reached up and touched her face. "It happened on Earth," she said.

 

Travis hazarded a guess. "Avon?"

 

"No," she replied. "I was momentarily captured by rebel forces. It was Avon who saved my life, although unintentionally."

 

"But he escaped?" Travis pressed, enjoying himself.

 

"Yes." She had no intention of explaining how she had been in a position to kill Avon, but at the last moment couldn't pull the trigger, and that he had managed to teleport to safety during a distraction.

 

Travis slumped into a chair. "What about Blake?"

 

"Missing," said Servalan. "He disappeared after the incident on Star One. Apparently, even Avon doesn't know where he is."

 

"But he's not dead?"

 

"Not as far as we know."

 

"Good," said Travis. "When do I go after  _Liberator_?"

 

"Immediately. I've arranged for a small fleet of ships, piloted by mutoids, to be put at your disposal. Do you have a plan?"

 

"Yes, I do, but I'm not telling it to anyone. Even you." Before she could interrupt, he went on. "I want complete secrecy in this; it's necessary for it to work. Of course, I'll inform you before it goes into effect."

 

Servalan looked doubtful, but grudgingly agreed. She, too, had plans of her own to trap Avon.

 

"I'm free to leave when I want." It was a question put forth as a statement.

 

"Yes. I'll inform the pilots to obey your commands," said Servalan. As Travis stood and made to leave, she spoke again. "Welcome back," she said in mock sincerity.

 

Travis turned quickly. "No! I'm not back! I'm not doing this for you or your bloody Federation. I'm doing it for me, and when it's over I expect to leave the Federation territories forever." He quickly left. Servalan smiled as she watched him go.

 

As soon as Travis left Servalan's quarters, he was followed by the two mutoids. He swung around to face them. "Why are you following me?" he asked.

 

"We are to be your escorts while you are on the President's ship," one of them replied.

 

"Escorts!" Travis raged. He nearly returned to Servalan to tell her what he thought of this idea, but decided against it. It would be a waste of time; she apparently didn't trust him any more than he trusted her. "All right, you can show me to my quarters," he grated. They did, and as the door closed behind him he saw that they were positioning themselves on either side of it, standing guard.

 

It was a sparsely furnished room, dark and depressing, but physical comforts hadn't mattered to Travis in quite a while. He decided to clean himself up.

 

He finished shaving and washed his face off. He looked at himself in the mirror and slowly traced over the scar along the side of his face with his finger. His sight had completely returned, but the scar would never go away. Another reminder that Blake was still alive; Blake and Avon. He heard the door open, and he dried his face as he went to see who had entered.

 

Servalan looked at him appreciatively. "Well, well," she said. "At least you look human again." Travis ignored her as he threw the towel onto a chair. I'm afraid you'll have to be leaving soon," she added.

 

"Why?" Travis asked.

 

"I have business on the planet Sardos," she said. "I've made arrangements for you and your ships to depart in the morning. Where will you go first?" she asked, hoping to got some clues about his plans.

 

Travis shook his head. "I said it's none of your business." He sat on the edge of the bed. "Are your two spies out there going to be part of my crew?" he motioned toward the door.

 

"The mutoids?" Servalan said. "Do you want them?"

 

"I do not want them," said Travis. "If I even think that any of them are reporting to you, I'll kill them." He glared at her.

 

Servalan laughed. "You're too suspicious, Travis," she said. "I'll make sure that those two are not part of your little army. Do you still have your communicator?" He nodded. "Use it to get in touch with me when your plan goes into effect." She paused at the door. "Would it be improper of me to wish you luck?"

 

"I don't believe in luck," Travis stated. "Just skill."

 

"Then I hope you have enough skill to make this work," she said as she left, taking the two mutoids with her.

 

Travis had noticed the threatening undertone in her voice, but it didn't worry him. He was now using her to exact vengeance on the two men who had nearly killed him. He turned off the lights and lay on the bed. He wanted to make an early start in the morning. Soon he was asleep.

 

The next morning, Travis was supervising the mutoids placed under his command as they prepared to depart. There were four ships in his fleet, each with a crew of three mutoids. A far cry from his days as a Space Commander, but enough to accomplish his plans. Servalan entered the bay and motioned him over. She looked a little upset.

 

"Was Malachi acting strangely the day you left Gaitlin?" she asked.

 

"Who?" Travis was watching as the last of his ships was being fueled.

 

"The doctor who saved your life. Malachi."

 

Travis faced her. "No," he replied. "Why, is there a problem?"

 

"He and his assistant have disappeared," she replied.

 

"How do you know?"

 

"Because I sent two mutoids to kill them," explained Servalan bluntly.

 

"Like you killed everyone on the ship that brought me in?"

 

Servalan glanced up sharply. "They were mostly useless civilians and wounded troopers," she said, staring at him. "If I didn't know you so well, I might suspect you of warning the doctor of my plans."

 

"Ha," scoffed Travis. "It's a good thing you do know me." He walked off. "Goodbye, Servalan."

 

Travis's ship was the first to take off, the others following. They flew a straight course away from Servalan's ship until they were out of scanning range, then changed course, heading toward the planet Odium. There was an abandoned mining operation there Travis knew of from an earlier assignment. It had been useless for years now, but the buildings were still intact. This would be his base for the time being. They landed their ships.

 

Travis didn't waste time. He called together the crews of three of his ships. "I have a special mission for you," he said. "There is a rebel that I have need of. He has a companion, but she is not important. I want the man alive, and uninjured. Is that understood?" The mutoids nodded. "They are at the following location..." Travis proceeded to give his orders to the nine mutoids. As soon as he was finished, they returned to their ships and took off.

 

Travis set the rest of the mutoids to work unloading equipment from the ships and set up his headquarters in the old mining office. After instructing one of the mutoids to keep watch at the scanners in ease any ships showed up, he proceeded to get in touch with a bounty hunter whose services he had occasionally used.

 

The man whose face appeared on the screen was gaunt and hungry-looking. He eyed Travis with surprise. "I heard you were dead," he said cautiously.

 

"You should know better than to believe rebels, or Federation propaganda, by now, Evan," Travis replied. "Can I still count on you to get a job done for me?"

 

"Of course," said Evan. His look turned shifty. "I suppose it's about your old friend, Blake?"

 

"As a matter of fact, it is. But I don't want him dead. Not yet, anyway. I just want him found."

 

"Whatever you say, but it won't change the fee."

 

"The cost is unimportant. Just find him and let me know as soon as you have." Travis signed off.

 

A week later, one of his ships returned. Two mutoids walked down the ramp, dragging a semi-conscious man between them. Travis approached them. "Where are the others?" he asked.

 

"We are the only ones left. The others were killed by this man and his companion."

 

Travis sighed angrily. He'd already lost over half of his troops, and his plan had not even gone into action yet. He jerked the man's face up and looked at him. "I assume he's not too gravely injured?"

 

"Only stunned," a mutoid replied. "His companion was killed."

 

"Good," muttered Travis. "Take him and lock him up. We'll start work on him tomorrow." The mutoids hauled the man away.

 

True to his word, the next day Travis instructed two of his remaining mutoids on what was to be done with the man. "Take it slowly with him. He is the person on whom the success of my entire plan lies. No matter how long it takes, I want it done correctly."

 

It was with great satisfaction that Travis watched all his plans begin to fall into place. He was sitting in his headquarters one day, idly listening to the Federation broadcasts, when he heard some startling news. President Servalan was dead. Travis sat in numb disbelief for a long while. The fact that Servalan was dead didn't cause him much grief, but her help and influence had played a major part in his schemes. He pounded the desk in frustration, then curtly told one of the mutoids to monitor communications. He left the building and went for a long walk.

 

When he returned, the mutoid met him at the door, holding the communicator Servalan had given him. "This has been beeping on a regular basis every hour," the mutoid reported.

 

"What?" Travis scoffed. He grabbed it and went to the privacy of his quarters. On the hour, the communicator did start beeping, just as the mutoid had said. He cautiously answered it. "Who's there?"

 

"You certainly took your time, didn't you?" Servalan's voice said idly.

 

"I just heard a report stating you were dead. It's not often I get a message from beyond the grave," Travis said.

 

"Ah, yes. The Federation would hope that I was dead. Fortunately, I'm not. But I am in need of your assistance."

 

"Oh?" Travis raised his eyebrow questioningly.

 

"I'm trapped on a miserable man-made planet, and have been here for two days. There's no more food or water, and I can't go above because of the dangerous life forms that inhabit the surface."

 

"I suppose you need someone to rescue you?" Travis was enjoying himself immensely. He leaned back in his chair and propped his long legs on the desk.

 

"It would be a wise decision on your part to do so," Servalan replied scathingly. "You still need my help, Travis."

 

Travis sighed. "Yes, I do, unfortunately. What's your location?" Servalan told him, and he got one of his mutoids to pilot the ship, leaving the others with instructions to continue the prisoner's treatment.

 

The mutoid landed the ship as close as possible to the base on the planet Terminal. After cautiously exiting down the ramp, they walked over to the entrance and managed, after some hard work, to pry it open. Travis peered down inside to see Servalan climbing the ladder. Her clothes were in tatters, and she was covered in dust. He helped her out, then they returned to the safety of the ship.

 

As the mutoid brought Servalan food and drink, Travis asked for an explanation. "After we'd acquired  _Liberator_ , we started to take it out of orbit. But it began falling apart around us. It had somehow been damaged beyond repair. I ran to the teleport and teleported back down to the base right before the  _Liberator_  exploded." Travis digested this news unhappily. So much for his plans of owning  _Liberator_.

 

"I hid myself from Avon and the others," Servalan continued. "Then the booby traps I'd set for them exploded. They all managed to escape, except for the Auron; she was killed in the final explosions. I managed to stay unharmed by taking shelter before the bombs detonated. The others soon left, and I was alone. That's when I contacted you."

 

"And what do you plan to do now?" Travis asked. "You can't very well go back to Earth. The Federation is not too happy with you at the moment."

 

"You may take me to Helotrix. I have some contacts there, and some plans that had just started to take effect before this happened." Travis nodded and ordered the mutoid to set a course for Helotrix.

 

As they lifted off, Servalan finished her food and drink, then looked at Travis. "Any luck in finding Blake?"

 

"Some," replied Travis evasively. "More than you, apparently."

 

Servalan reddened, but held her anger in check. "Now that  _Liberator_  is gone, capturing Avon and the others should be simple."

 

"I doubt it," Travis countered. "Avon is too clever to be caught that easily. I wouldn't be surprised to be hearing more news of him soon. Bad news, at least to you and your Federation friends."

 

Servalan didn't reply to this, but instead went to the ship's cabin to refresh herself.

 

 

 

Servalan disembarked as soon as they reached Helotrix. "Remember, Travis, 'Servalan' is dead. I can no longer go by that name. But 'Sleer' lives, and I do hope to hear of your plan soon."

 

Travis watched her head for the nearby city. Then he set course back to Odium. When he and the mutoid arrived, he checked on the condition of his prisoner. To Travis's delight, he was nearly ready. In anticipation of this, Travis and three of the mutoids set about modifying his pursuit ship until it could reach speeds greater than those achieved by most of the Federation's bigger vessels.

 

When at last the prisoner was ready, Travis instructed his mutoids to drop the man off on a distant planet. There was a small rebel movement there, and he'd found out from Servalan that a spy was already working on infiltrating it. This spy would keep them up to date on the situation there.

 

Travis received a call from Evan, who told him that, due to "unfortunate circumstances," he was having to move his base to a planet in the Kola sector. But he was happy to report that he had made progress in locating Blake, and should have more to tell Travis in a few weeks.

 

So, after months of meticulous planning and incredible patience, Travis found that his scheme was coming to completion. The spy reported that contacts were about to be made, and Servalan, too, called in with good news for him. Although her last plan to destroy Avon had failed, it had apparently pushed him to the edge He was now seeking Blake. And Avon's search was leading him to the planet where, a few months earlier, Travis had deposited his newly conditioned prisoner. The same planet where the Federation spy was. As they concluded their conversation, the last thing Servalan said to him was, "I'll be awaiting you on Gauda Prime."

 

Travis smiled. As Servalan awaited him, so, too, would he await Avon and his crew. It would be a meeting not soon forgotten.

 

* * *

 

Travis watched as Avon stood protectively over Blake's body and slowly raised his gun. The troopers surrounding him immediately became more alert and tense. Avon smiled--a grin that was not quite sane. Abruptly, he fired, killing the trooper in front of him. The others dove for cover as the ones behind him dosed in. He turned quickly and shot another trooper. But before he could fire again, he was hit in the hand, causing him to drop his gun. The soldier who had shot him prepared to fire again. Avon watched impassively as the man's finger tightened on the trigger.

 

Suddenly, the trooper pitched forward and fell. Travis stood behind him, his hand still smoking. "I said he was not to be harmed!" he shouted. He stepped over the body and stood before Avon, who was being held by two soldiers. As Avon stared at Travis in disbelief, he heard a familiar voice.

 

"Hello, Avon. I believe you remember Travis. He certainly remembers you." Servalan entered the room and stood beside Travis.

 

Avon spoke in a resigned voice. "How did you survive? I saw you fall into the pit after I shot you."

 

"You came close, Avon. Closer than Blake did. And I'm going to enjoy returning the favor. Take him away." As Avon was led off, Servalan viewed the bodies strewn about the floor. She stopped by Tarrant.

 

"Too bad he had to die so young," she said regretfully.

 

Travis looked at her with surprise. "He's not dead; none of them are. They're merely stunned. You didn't think I'd let them die that easily, after the trouble I went through to get them?"

 

"No, of course not," Servalan said. "What will you do with them?"

 

"I'll kill them eventually. But they're unimportant right now." He motioned to the remaining soldiers. "Take them to a cell." He turned to Servalan. "I have some unfinished business with Avon."

 

"But what about Blake? I thought you would have kept him alive. You can't have revenge against a dead man."

 

"No, but seeing him die by Avon's hands was almost as good as if I'd done it myself." He left, and she followed him into another room.

 

Inside, Avon was strapped to a chair. A mutoid was securing two wires to either side of his forehead. "Is everything ready?" asked Travis.

 

The mutoid finished and stepped back. "Yes, sir."

 

As Servalan watched from the other side of the room, Travis sat in front of Avon and picked up a control box. "Where is Orac?" Travis asked. Avon stared at him and said nothing. Travis pushed a button. Avon jerked back in the chair as intense pain poured through his head. When it stopped, he slumped forward.

 

Travis spoke again. "You're a strong man, Avon. And stubborn. I didn't expect you to talk right away; I would've been disappointed if you had. Now, where's Orac?" Again Avon didn't answer, and Travis thumbed the button.

 

The pain seemed to last forever; it was all Avon could do to keep from crying out. Finally, it stopped. Sweat mixed with tears and ran down his face.

 

"Ready to talk?" asked Travis. Avon shook his head savagely. This time he couldn't help it; it was too much. He screamed and screamed until his voice gave out. He was hardly aware when the pain stopped. Travis leaned over and jerked Avon's head up by the hair.

 

"You're breaking," he said. "You can't last much longer. I'm not going to let you die, Avon. I have plans for you. Now, where is Orac?"

 

Avon spoke a single word: "No!" When the pain hit this time, he couldn't even cry out. His head was bursting open, it had to be. Suddenly, something inside him snapped. The events of the past hours rushed through his mind. Blake was standing before him, dying, staring accusingly at him as he fell to the floor.

 

"No!" Avon screamed. "Stop! Stop!"

 

Travis released the button and leaned forward expectantly. "Where is it?" he asked again.

 

Avon struggled to speak. It didn't matter any more. His crew was dead and he himself had killed Blake. "In the forest," he said hoarsely. "Where we found the ship. It's hidden in a clump of bushes bordering the clearing."

 

Travis stood and smiled triumphantly at Servalan. "I'll send some men to look for it immediately," she said. "You've done well, Travis."

 

As she gave her orders, the mutoid unstrapped Avon. "Take him to the cell," commanded Travis. "I'll be there soon to get another one to question." He watched as two guards dragged Avon out of the room.

 

 

 

Vila slowly regained consciousness. He didn't remember feeling this bad since drinking too much Gardonion whiskey on a bet. He groaned and tried to sit up.

 

"Are you all right?" someone asked. He turned and saw Dayna and Soolin looking at him with concern.

 

"I've been better," he said. "What happened? I thought we were dead when those Federation soldiers started firing on us."

 

"Apparently they wanted us alive," said Soolin. She and Dayna were huddled over Tarrant. Vila crawled to their side.

 

"Is he okay?" he asked worriedly. Tarrant had survived the Scorpio crash, but not without injuries. "I think so," replied Dayna. "He's been drifting in and out of consciousness. I hope it's only the aftereffect of being stunned."

 

Vila sat back and looked around him. Suddenly he jumped to his feet. "Where's Avon?" he asked.

 

"We don't know," replied Soolin. "He wasn't in here when we woke up."

 

Before Vila could say any more, Tarrant, still dazed, tried to sit up. "Take it easy," Vila advised. He helped Tarrant to sit against the wall. "Are you going to be all right?"

 

Tarrant nodded slowly as he held his head in his hands. "I'm just a little dizzy," he said. "Let me rest for a few minutes."

 

"You've got plenty of time for that," Vila muttered.

 

Just then, the door opened. A mutoid entered, her gun pointed at them. She was followed by two guards. They unceremoniously dumped a body into the cell and left.

 

"Avon!" Dayna exclaimed. She and Vila rushed to him and gently turned him over. He was deathly pale and drenched in sweat. He looked at them uncertainly.

 

"Vila? Is that you?" he asked weakly.

 

"Of course it's me; who else would it be?" said Vila crossly, trying to mask his concern. "What happened to you?"

 

"I thought you were all dead," Avon said, ignoring the question. They pulled him over to sit beside Tarrant, who was looking at him.

 

"Do I detect concern in your voice, Avon?" Tarrant asked.

 

"No, just disappointment," answered Avon.

 

Vila made a disgruntled noise. "He's going to be okay!" he said, looking at Dayna and Soolin; they just smiled. However, their friendly bantering was quickly forgotten as the door suddenly opened.

 

Travis strode into the room, flanked by guards. He looked them over. "I'm glad to see you've all recovered. I need someone who would like to answer a few questions." He looked at Vila, who noticed his gaze and immediately tried to back through the wall.

 

"You told me you'd killed him, Avon!" he said accusingly.

 

"I thought I had," answered Avon.

 

Vila turned back to Travis, who was still looking at him. "Now, Travis," he began nervously. "You know I don't know anything. They never tell me what's going on. Besides, I'd be no fun to torture. I have a very low pain threshold; you wouldn't enjoy hurting me, I'd give in too easily."

 

"Oh, do shut up!" came a voice from outside the cell. Servalan entered. "I thought Avon would like to know that my troops have found Orac and will return with it within the hour."

 

"You gave them Orac?" exploded Tarrant.

 

"Not willingly, I assure you," answered Avon grimly.

 

"That just leaves one piece of business to take care of," Servalan continued. "Guards!" Immediately, one of the guards grabbed Travis, pulling his right arm behind him and throwing a stranglehold around his neck. Before Travis could react, a second guard grasped his left arm and touched a small box to it. Sparks showered from the artificial limb, and Travis cried out in pain. When the trooper released the arm, it dropped limply to Travis's side.

 

"What are you doing?" Travis yelled at Servalan. The first soldier tightened his hold on the angry man.

 

"You've served your purpose, Travis," she said. "I'm going to send you back to Earth with the others. You're worth an additional hundred thousand credits to me." She smiled.

 

Travis snarled at her, then abruptly spat in her face. She jerked back in surprise, and the guard restraining Travis twisted his arm behind his back even further. Travis grimaced in pain.

 

Servalan angrily wiped the spittle off her face. "Enjoy your stay, Travis," she hissed, then turned and left. The soldier threw Travis against the wall between Avon and Vila and left the cell with the others.

 

Travis pushed himself to his knees with his throbbing right arm. His other arm was numb; it hung useless at his side. He shook his head to clear it, and noticed that the others had surrounded him.

 

"Get him to his feet," ordered Avon. Dayna and Tarrant roughly pulled Travis up. He found himself staring into Avon's hate-filled eyes. "I thought you would've known better than to trust Servalan," said Avon.

 

"I've never trusted her," replied Travis. "I suspected all along she'd try something like this. But even if she does manage to get me back to Earth, it was worth it all just to see you kill Blake!"

 

Avon threw a punch at Travis, who had been expecting it and ducked. As he came up, he hit Avon, knocking him into Soolin. But before he could swing again, Tarrant hit him, sending him into the corner. Avon was immediately on him again and gave him a vicious blow in the ribs. As Travis doubled over, Avon brought both fists down on the back of his neck. Travis slumped to the floor. Avon stepped back and kicked him, hard, once again in the ribs. He smiled as Travis retched in pain.

 

"That was refreshing," said Avon, turning to the others. His eye was starting to swell where Travis had hit him.

 

"Yes, I can tell you enjoyed yourself immensely," said Vila.

 

Tarrant glanced down at Travis. "Are you going to kill him?" he asked.

 

"No," replied Avon. "We've got other things to worry about. Servalan may have Orac, but she doesn't have the key. I hid it somewhere else. When she finds that out, shell be back."

 

"So what are we going to do?" questioned Vila.

 

"We're going to get out of here," said Avon.

 

There was laughter behind them. They turned to see Travis slowly sitting up. Blood was running down his chin from a cut in his lip, and he was clasping his arm against his ribs. "You're a clever man, Avon," he said. "But you'll never escape from here."

 

"Well, we're going to try," said Dayna. "Which is certainly more than you'll be able to do."

 

"Really?" said Travis. "I have a better chance of getting away than you do."

 

"Oh?" mused Avon. "Would you like to let us know how?"

 

"No. But I would be willing to make a deal with you if you get me out of this cell."

 

"I'm afraid you hit him too hard," Vila told Tarrant. "He's starting to have delusions."

 

"We could force the answer out of you," threatened Avon.

 

"Don't count on it," replied Travis. "Servalan's troops would be back long before you'd get anything out of me."

 

Avon stared at him through slitted eyes. "What do you have in mind?"

 

"We have a deal, then?" Travis asked. "You get me out of here, and I'll lead you to my ship. And we all leave on it."

 

"Are you going to trust him?" Soolin asked Avon.

 

"No. But we can use him. What's your plan?" Avon asked again.

 

"The mutoids. Servalan's not had time to reprogram them, so they'll still take orders from me. All we have to do is get one in here," Travis explained.

 

"That shouldn't be too hard," Avon said. "There's one standing guard outside. But there's a trooper out there too. We'd have to get rid of him."

 

"The mutoid would take care of him," Travis said.

 

"All right," said Avon. "Let's get them in here."

 

The trooper. guarding the cell jumped at the sudden pounding on the door. "Help, help!" a muffled voice cried. "They're going to kill him!" The pounding increased. The guard motioned the mutoid over and opened the door. Vila nearly fell out into his arms. "I think they've killed him!" he gasped.

 

The guard shoved him back inside and entered the cell, with the mutoid following. Avon and Tarrant were standing over Travis, whose neck was at an odd angle. Blood flowed down his chin. "Get back!" The guard motioned savagely with his gun. They all stepped back against the wall. He kept his gun leveled at them and spoke to the mutoid. "See to him," he ordered, nodding toward Travis. She walked over and knelt beside him.

 

Suddenly Travis's eye opened. "Kill the guard!" he ordered. Before the startled trooper could react, the mutoid spun around and shot him. Avon hastily grabbed his gun.

 

"What now?" asked Dayna.

 

"How far is the nearest door?" asked Avon.

 

"There is an exit at the end of this corridor. But four troopers are guarding it," replied the mutoid.

 

"And we only have two guns amongst the lot of us," Tarrant grimaced.

 

"How close are the nearest mutoids?" questioned Travis.

 

"They are patrolling outside. Their exact location is not known to me," she said.

 

"Someone could take his uniform," Soolin suggested, indicating the dead guard. "Then go with the mutoid and kill the guards."

 

"I'll do it," volunteered Tarrant. He began taking the uniform off the guard.

 

"I knew he'd say that," muttered Vila.

 

"You can't," broke in Avon. As Tarrant started to argue, he explained. "Federation guards are seldom bruised and bloodied," he said, pointing at Tarrant's face.

 

"Who, then?" said Dayna. "Not you, Avon. You're too well known. And certainly not him!" She looked at Travis, who smiled icily at her.

 

"Well, that leaves just one person for the job, doesn't it?" Avon stared meaningfully at Vila.

 

"Now wait a minute!" Vila argued. "I couldn't pass for a Federation trooper! No one would believe it!"

 

"You did quite well on Sardos," Tarrant reminded him.

 

"Do it now!" Avon ordered. "We don't have time for your petty cowardice."

 

Vila, grumbling, complied. He took the gun from Avon and held it uncertainly.

 

Travis gave his orders to the mutoid. "I want you and him to go kill the guards at the end of the corridor. Then bring their weapons back to us."

 

The others waited in tense silence as Vila and the mutoid walked down the corridor. Presently, they heard the faint sound of gunfire, then footsteps running back towards them. Vila arrived first. "Here!" He shoved the guns into Tarrant's arms. He was pale. "I never want to do that again!" Tarrant kept a gun and gave the other three to Soolin, Dayna, and Avon.

 

"Don't I get one?" Travis asked sarcastically.

 

"Getting shot in the back was not part of our deal," Avon told him.

 

"Don't you trust me?"

 

"Should I?" Avon smirked.

 

Travis grinned evilly. "No," he replied.

 

Avon smiled. "At least you're honest about that," he said. "How do we get to your ship?"

 

Travis considered their position in the base. "We'll have to go around to the other side. It's just over a hill."

 

"Then we should get moving," Avon said. After a cautious look outside the door, he motioned for them to follow as he ran down the hallway. He cracked open the outer door and peeked outside. "All clear," he announced. "Which way?" he asked Travis.

 

Travis stepped outside and looked around. "Follow me," he said as he jogged along the side of the building. The others filed along behind him, stopping at the corner. Travis was clutching his ribs as he tried to catch his breath.

 

Avon stared at him coldly. "Can you make it?"

 

"You'd better make sure I do," Travis gasped between breaths. "You'll never get on my ship without me." Before Avon could reply, the wall in front of his face exploded, nearly blinding him. He dropped to the ground with the others as they prepared to return fire against the advancing troops. Soolin drew a bead on one and dropped him. Before anyone else could fire, Travis stood up. "Wait!" he called. "Don't shoot!" He turned to the others. "They're mutoids."

 

The two remaining mutoids approached them. "Commander," one said. "We would not have fired had we known it was you."

 

"Never mind," Travis said. "We need to get to my ship. You two bring up the rear." He started toward a hill, the others following closely.

 

"If he gathers any more mutoids, what's to stop him from attacking us?" Soolin asked as they ran.

 

"Don't worry," Avon told her. "That will be taken care of."

 

They had just reached the hill and begun climbing it when alarms started sounding in the base. Vila chanced a look behind him and saw Federation troopers filing out of the building and running towards them. "We've got trouble!" he yelled, and began climbing faster.

 

The others turned at his cry and saw what was causing his panic. They too began climbing faster, with the exception of Tarrant and Travis, whose injuries were slowing them down. The two mutoids went to Travis's aid as the others reached the top of the hill and began running down the other side toward Travis's ship.

 

Blaster fire began erupting around them. Travis looked over his shoulder to see Tarrant still struggling upward. He shrugged one of the mutoids loose. "Go help him," he ordered. With the mutoids' help, the injured men were finally able to make it to the ship, where the others were impatiently gathered. Travis shoved them out of his way and punched in the code to open the hatch. As it lowered, he entered along with the two mutoids and Tarrant.

 

A shot from the troopers killed the third mutoid. Avon and Dayna returned fire as Vila scrambled into the ship with Soolin close behind.

 

Inside, the mutoids were preparing for liftoff. "Avon, Dayna!" Tarrant yelled. "Close the hatch; we're taking off!" Dayna took one last shot, then followed Avon into the ship. The hatch had barely closed when the ship became airborne.

 

Avon ran onto the flight deck area. "Don't head for space yet," he ordered.

 

"Why not?" asked Travis menacingly.

 

"Servalan has Orac, but not the key. With the key in our possession, Orac is little more than a useless box of components."

 

"Isn't that what I've always said he was?" asked Vila.

 

Avon ignored him. "Take the ship to these coordinates," he punched them into the ship's computer. "That's were I hid the key. It will only take a few minutes." Travis grudgingly agreed, and soon the ship was landing. "I won't be long," Avon called over his shoulder as he ran down the ramp.

 

"You'd better not be," Travis muttered. However, Avon soon returned to the ship, triumphantly holding the key. "Servalan hasn't won yet," he said as the ship once again lifted off and headed into deep space.

 

Tarrant was watching the scanners. "There's no one else out here," he said in surprise. "I thought there'd at least be a few ships orbiting the planet."

 

"It was my idea," Travis explained. "I persuaded Servalan that she'd need all her forces planetside. I made her think there were more rebels than there actually were."

 

"She's sure to have sent someone after us," worried Vila.

 

"Probably," Travis confirmed. "But I doubt they'll catch us. I've made a few improvements to this ship even Servalan isn't aware of."

 

"So it's safe to assume we won't have any immediate problems from the Federation?" Avon asked. When Travis nodded yes, Avon caught Soolin's eye. They turned and fired, killing the mutoids. Travis started to reach for a gun, but stopped when Avon jammed his weapon against Travis's throat. "Tarrant, pilot the ship," Avon ordered. He gazed steadily at Travis. "What's to stop me from killing you now and dumping you out the airlock?" he asked.

 

"Avon's good at that," Vila added in a voice the others had heard him use only once before. They glanced at him curiously.

 

"Shut up, Vila," snapped Avon. He continued to glare at Travis. "Well?"

 

Travis returned his gaze steadily. "If you're expecting me to beg, you'll have a long wait," he said. "I do, however, have some information you might find useful."

 

"Another deal?" Avon asked sarcastically.

 

"No more deals," contradicted Travis. "Without my help, you'll never find him."

 

"Find whom?" Dayna prompted.

 

"Blake. He isn't dead," he told them, enjoying the look on Avon's face.

 

"I don't believe you," stated Tarrant. "After all, Avon made quite sure."

 

Avon didn't rise to the bait. "Do you expect me to believe that?" he asked, thrusting the gun harder against Travis's throat.

 

"Whether you believe it or not doesn't change the fact that he is alive, and I have a good idea where to find him," Travis said.

 

"How do you explain the Blake that Avon killed, then?" Soolin questioned.

 

"I'm sure Avon remembers Imipak," began Travis.

 

"Imipak? Yes...yes, I do," said Avon.

 

"Didn't you ever wonder how we managed to get such a dangerous weapon without causing our own deaths?"

 

"The thought did cross my mind," admitted Avon.

 

"Servalan made a deal with the Clone Masters, and they gave us a clone of Blake. We used him to obtain the weapon from Coser. Unfortunately, Coser's bond slave managed to mark us with the weapon. She and Blake's clone kept the weapon as insurance against our ever attacking them.

 

"However, they grew careless in the following years. I sent my mutoids to get the clone as bait for my trap. The girl and Blake's clone weren't prepared for a battle; even so, I lost most of my mutoids before they finally killed the girl and captured the clone, destroying the weapon in the process.

 

"It was then just a matter of programming the other Blake, and letting enough information leak out so that your precious Orac could eventually track him down," Travis finished.

 

"Then I really didn't kill Blake?" Avon seemed to be relieved, but confused as well.

 

"Of course not. Do you really think I'd let anyone else kill Blake? When Blake dies, it will be by my hand," promised Travis.

 

Avon seemed to collect himself. "Where is Blake?"

 

Travis said nothing. Avon slowly pulled his gun away from Travis's throat. "What do you want?"

 

"I'll take you to the planet Blake is supposedly on. I'll put you in touch with my contacts. Then you'll be on your own. I'll be free to go my own way, and I'll want my ship back," Travis stated.

 

"What's to keep you from going after Blake," asked Vila.

 

"Nothing," Travis grinned.

 

"Oh, but you're wrong there," said Avon. "We'll stop you."

 

"You can try," answered Travis.

 

Avon seemed to make up his mind. "Soolin, take him and lock him up in his cabin. Make sure there are no weapons in there. Dayna and I will get rid of these," he indicated the mutoids.

 

After Soolin had locked Travis up, she returned to the flight deck. Vila and Tarrant sat at the controls. Dayna and Avon returned from their grisly task, and Dayna flourished a box at them.

 

"What's that?" Tarrant asked.

 

"The medical kit," she replied. "You and Avon could use a bit of patching up."

 

"I'm all right," said Avon.

 

"But your eye..." Dayna started.

 

"Is not permanently damaged," interrupted Avon. "Just see to Tarrant."

 

Dayna knew it was hopeless to argue. She set about tending to Tarrant.

 

When she was finished, she started to put the kit away. "Wait a minute," said Tarrant. "I'll go with you." As they walked off the flight deck, he said, "Let's stop and see our prisoner."

 

"Why?" asked Dayna.

 

"Well, it might be a good idea if we found out where we're headed. Avon forgot to ask that." He smiled. "It must be all the excitement."

 

They entered the cabin to find Travis lying on the bed. He struggled to sit up. "What do you want?" he asked.

 

Tarrant took the first-aid kit from Dayna and tossed it to him. "I thought you might want to take care of your bumps and bruises," he said. Travis said nothing, but awkwardly opened the kit and held a pad to his still-bleeding lip. "By the way," added Tarrant, "where are we going?"

 

"Bulost. In the Kola sector."

 

"Right," said Tarrant. "Tell Avon, will you, Dayna?"

 

"What are you going to be doing?" she asked.

 

"I'd like to talk to him for a few minutes," Tarrant answered. Dayna looked at him suspiciously, but said nothing and left. Tarrant sat in the chair and watched as Travis nursed his lip.

 

Travis's head snapped up. "What are you looking at?" he asked belligerently.

 

Tarrant half smiled. "Would you believe my former hero?"

 

Travis stared at him disbelievingly. "Your what?"

 

"It's true," Tarrant told him. "When I was in the Academy, I used to dream of being like you. It was my ambition to become a space commander."

 

"Why didn't you stay in the service, then?" asked Travis.

 

"What, and end up like you?" snorted Tarrant.

 

"I see your point. I remember hearing about you too."

 

It was Tarrant's turn to be surprised. "Oh? What sort of things did you hear?"

 

"You were a top pilot. Word got around. The Federation had big plans for you," explained Travis.

 

"I'm sure they did." Tarrant shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Why did you send that mutoid back to help me?" he asked.

 

Travis thought a moment. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. Since the others so readily left you behind, I assumed you must be doing something right in not having that lot care about you."

 

"I'd like to think they were more concerned about themselves, rather than unconcerned about me." Travis just grunted and absently began massaging his right knee. Tarrant noticed it and asked, "What's wrong with your leg? I don't remember your hurting it."

 

Travis got a cold look in his eye. "It's an old injury. It only hurts if I overuse it."

 

"What happened?" Tarrant was curious.

 

Travis's face was like stone. "Why don't you ask Avon?" he said in an icy voice. He continued rubbing his knee.

 

"I suppose I should ask Avon about your eye too?"

 

"Which one?" asked Travis savagely.

 

Tarrant thought it best to pursue another subject. "Will your arm be all right? Is there anything we can do about it?"

 

"Not unless you happen to be a skilled cybersurgeon."

 

"No," said Tarrant. "I don't think even Avon could make that claim."

 

 

 

Dayna entered the flight deck and announced, "We're heading for Bulost, Avon. Somewhere in the Kola sector."

 

"Right," said Avon. He punched in the coordinates, then turned to Dayna. "Where's Tarrant?"

 

"He said he wanted to talk to Travis. I left him there," she replied.

 

"Soolin, you watch things here." Avon strode off the flight deck.

 

"Uh, oh," muttered Vila. "I can see the sparks flying now."

 

Avon burst into Travis's cabin and took in the scene. Travis was sitting on the bed and Tarrant was slouched in the chair, his gun resting on his lap. "Are you comfortable?" Avon asked through clenched teeth.

 

Tarrant sat up a bit straighter. "Quite," he smiled guilelessly.

 

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

 

A frown replaced Tarrant's smile. "Carrying on a conversation, Avon. It's something you don't seem to do very much of."

 

Avon grabbed Tarrant's shirt front and slammed the surprised pilot against the wall. "Do you happen to realise who it is you're having your little chat with?"

 

Tarrant finally got over his initial surprise and shook himself loose of Avon's grasp. "What's the matter, Avon? Afraid I might join forces with him and team up against you?"

 

"That man is trying to kill Blake!" Avon nearly shouted.

 

"You did kill him, Avon. Which of you is worse, I wonder?"

 

Avon's eyes were smoldering. "I could arrange for you to stay with him on a full-time basis," he threatened.

 

The pilot drew himself up. "Then why don't you?" he challenged.

 

Travis's amused chuckle distracted the two men. "I may not have to kill you after all," he observed. "You might do it yourselves."

 

Avon turned angrily on him. "If anyone gets killed around here, it will be you."

 

Travis was unaffected. "You know where to find me."

 

"You're needed to pilot the ship, Tarrant," Avon said as he left.

 

Travis glared at Avon's back as he stalked out. "I'd watch him, if I were you," he told Tarrant.

 

"I'll be watching everyone," Tarrant replied meaningfully as he, too, left. Travis just smiled.

 

Avon stormed back onto the flight deck, with Tarrant following just behind him. They both looked angry, and Vila, for once, wisely kept his mouth shut. However, after a long period during which no one spoke, he hesitantly cleared his throat. "Is there any food about, do you think?"

 

"Why don't you ask Travis?" Avon suggested.

 

"Uh, no thanks." After a few moments' silence, Vila tried again. "There is food on board, isn't there, Tarrant?"

 

"Of course, Vila," replied Tarrant wearily. "You'll have to find it yourself, though. I can't leave the controls."

 

Vila welcomed the opportunity to get away from the tension-filled flight deck. "Either of you girls like to come along?" he asked.

 

Both shook their heads no, but as Vila was leaving, Dayna called after him, "When you do find some food, see if you can't manage to bring some back for us. I'm starved."

 

"Your wish is my command," Vila bowed gallantly. After a short search, during which he found nothing even worth stealing, he happened upon the food dispenser. He frowned disapprovingly at it.

 

"Dinner is served," he announced as he entered the flight deck a short time later. "And a pretty boring one, at that. How can they stand these protein packs? And would you believe there's nothing to drink but water?" He sounded outraged.

 

"This is a fighting ship," explained Tarrant. "Not a pleasure craft. It wouldn't do for the men to get drunk in battle."

 

"Well, they ought to have something in case they ever have guests on board," Vila grumbled.

 

"The Federation doesn't have 'guests,' Vila," admonished Soolin.

 

"True. Still..."

 

"Let's see what you've got," Dayna cut in impatiently. She passed out the food and drinks, then experimentally bit into her bar of food. "Ugh," she made a face. "Vila was right."

 

Vila, after one bite, decided he really wasn't that hungry, and Soolin nibbled hers cautiously. Avon had ignored the "food," but Tarrant was munching contentedly on his. "How can you eat that?" Vila asked, his eyes wide.

 

Tarrant swallowed and spoke. "It's standard Federation fare. I've had to live on these for weeks at a time. You get used to it." He took another bite.

 

Vila turned away and drained his cup of water. "How soon before we reach Bulost, Avon?" he asked.

 

"We should arrive in thirty-two hours if we can maintain this course and speed," Avon told him.

 

"Thirty-two hours! I'll starve before then!"

 

"Then I suggest you eat." Avon finally picked up his bar and began to gnaw at it. The others watched him expectantly. "Not very tasty, but nourishing," he said, and proceeded to finish the bar. Dayna and Soolin finally managed to down theirs, but Vila had given up in disgust.

 

"You'll have to eat one eventually," Tarrant told him, smiling.

 

"Maybe so, but until I get that hungry, I think I'll pass, thanks."

 

 

 

The time passed slowly. Tarrant and Avon took turns piloting the ship while the others tried to sleep on the floor or in the seats. "It's really not fair, you know," griped Vila. "We're in control of this ship, but we're having to sleep on the floor while our prisoner gets a cabin."

 

"I'm sure something can be arranged, Vila," said Avon. "Perhaps you'd like to share the cabin with Travis?"

 

"Actually," Vila amended. "This floor is very comfortable. I only wish we had some real food."

 

"Speaking of which, I think I'll take some to our prisoner," said Tarrant. He avoided looking at Avon as he left.

 

"What's gotten into him?" wondered Soolin. "I've never seen him act this way."

 

"Oh, he and Travis are probably old buddies," sighed Vila. "They're most likely in there talking about the good old days of serving in the Federation. You know, 'Battles I Have Fought,' that sort of thing."

 

"Really, Vila," said Dayna, trying to hide a smile.

 

Avon was studiously silent. Vila picked up his protein bar and took a bite. "I'm only eating this to please Tarrant, you know. Wouldn't want him to think I'm too weak to help in case we get into a fight or something." When the others just looked at him incredulously, he demanded, "What?"

 

 

 

"I've brought you some food and water," said Tarrant as he entered Travis's cabin.

 

"Then you've decided not to let me starve?" asked Travis.

 

"I'm sure Avon has something more entertaining in mind for you," smiled Tarrant. He turned to leave.

 

"How long until we reach Bulost?" inquired Travis.

 

"About seven hours. Why?"

 

"No particular reason." Travis sat in silence until Tarrant left, then began eating.

 

 

 

"We're about to enter orbit around Bulost," stated Tarrant.

 

"Soolin, Dayna, bring Travis up here. We need to know where to land," Avon ordered. They left and soon returned with Travis.

 

"Where do we go from here?" asked Avon.

 

Travis stepped up to the console. "Go to these coordinates," he said. "When they get in contact with you, reply, 'Starburst 282.' Then they'll tell you where to land."

 

They followed his instructions, and soon a voice came over comm. "Unidentified ship: please give the password. Repeat: give the password."

 

"Be my guest," said Tarrant to Travis.

 

"Base, this is Starburst 282. We're coming in for a landing."

 

"Starburst 282, go to landing field six. We've been waiting for you."

 

Travis stepped back. "You heard the man. Landing field six. It's clearly marked."

 

"What if this is some sort of trap?" Dayna asked suspiciously.

 

"It's possible. However, if they attack us, Travis will be the first to die. I think he'll make sure everything goes smoothly," said Avon.

 

"Count on it," muttered Travis.

 

 

 

Tarrant soon landed the ship. Five armed men were waiting to meet it. "They don't look too friendly," worried Vila.

 

"They're not," said Soolin.

 

Avon turned to Travis. "It's your move."

 

"They are the ones who can provide me with information regarding Blake's location. I suggest you let me talk to them."

 

"Tell the leader to come alone, and we'll talk here."

 

"He's not very likely to do that," began Travis.

 

"I'm sure he will if you tell him to. Do it," snapped Avon.

 

They went to the lowered ramp, Avon with his gun in Travis's back, and the others close behind them. "Evan, you come on board alone," Travis ordered.

 

"Why?" Evan asked.

 

"My 'friends' here don't seem to trust you," Travis replied.

 

"Well, I don't trust them, either. I'm not stupid."

 

"But you are greedy, Evan. And if you want to be paid for your troubles, you'll come now, or we're leaving," Travis said.

 

Evan turned and talked to his companions, then finally spoke to Travis. "All right, I'm coming. But if I'm not out in ten minutes, my men will blow this ship, and everyone in it."

 

"You worry too much," Travis scoffed.

 

Evan cautiously walked up the ramp. "I'll hold that for now, thanks," Tarrant said as he took his gun.

 

"What have you found out?" Travis asked.

 

"Blake is here," Evan began. Avon's back stiffened at this news, and the others looked at each other expectantly. "In fact," Evan continued, "his base isn't far from here. It's a small operation; he's obviously just started."

 

"How do we get there?" cut in Avon.

 

Evan looked at him contemptuously. "Who's this?" he asked Travis.

 

"An old acquaintance," Travis replied. "Answer his question."

 

Evan looked as though he might refuse, but finally replied, "I'll give you the coordinates after I've been paid."

 

Avon jammed his gun against Evan's cheek. "You'll give them to us now!" he said.

 

Evan saw the look in Avon's eyes and complied. "Point 014 in Section 9. His base is in an old abandoned underground communications facility."

 

Avon turned to Tarrant. "Get ready to lift off."

 

As Tarrant returned to the flight deck, Evan asked Travis, "When do I get paid?"

 

"If Blake is there, I'll take care of him, then return and pay you. Now get off." Evan walked down the ramp.

 

"You'd better be back soon, Travis. I'm not the kind of man you'd want to cross!" Evan shouted.

 

Travis just laughed as the ramp raised and the ship took off.

 

"Soolin, watch him," Avon ordered as they reentered the flight deck. She motioned Travis over against a bulkhead.

 

"Land half a mile from the coordinates," Avon told Tarrant. "It could still be a trap."

 

Tarrant put the ship down in a remote area. There was nothing to be seen for miles.

 

"At least this base is well-hidden," Vila commented as he looked around.

 

"Let's go," said Avon. He headed toward the coordinates Evan had given them. The others followed, with Soolin still guarding Travis. Soon Avon stopped. "We're here, but I don't see anything."

 

"You're not supposed to," said a strange voice echoing around them. "Drop your weapons now, or we'll kill you."

 

Vila dropped his immediately, but the others kept theirs, gathering in a small, defensive circle. A blast came from out of the ground and Soolin dropped her gun with a cry, nursing her wounded hand. The others reluctantly threw down their weapons.

 

An opening appeared in the sand before them, and five men came out of it. "All right. Down the shaft, carefully. We have men below too," one of them ordered.

 

Tarrant went first, then the others, followed by their captors. As they reached the bottom, the cover slid back over the shaft and they were left in near darkness with only a few dim lights showing the way. As they walked along, Dayna asked, "Soolin, are you badly hurt?" As she examined the wound, Tarrant turned to Avon.

 

"How did they do that?" he wondered. "I didn't see anything fire." Before Avon could reply, one of the guards shoved Tarrant roughly in the back.

 

"Quiet!" he ordered.

 

They soon entered a large room and stopped. "I've got our intruders," one of the men announced.

 

"Good," came a voice from the far side of the room. "Let's have a look at them." A man started walking towards them.

 

"Blake?" asked Vila uncertainly. He thought he had recognized his voice.

 

"Who...Vila!" It was Blake. "Avon! What are you doing here? How did you find me?" Blake clapped Vila on the shoulder and smiled widely. "Who are your friends?"

 

Avon was less emotional. "Blake. It's good to see you. This is Tarrant, Dayna, and Soolin. And as to how we found you, you can thank your old friend on the end for that."

 

"Travis! But how...?"

 

"I don't know how, but he obviously did survive Star One. I've left him for you to take care of," said Avon.

 

"What am I supposed to do with him?" asked Blake.

 

"Kill him, of course," replied Avon.

 

"Yes, Blake," Travis interrupted savagely. "Kill me, if you can. But you'd better make very sure this time. You've failed twice already."

 

"If he does fail, then I will make sure," said Avon. "I have some unfinished business with you."

 

"No, Avon," said Blake as he stepped toward Travis. "This time, I will kill him. And I think I will enjoy it." He stopped in front of Travis, and they stared at each other for a long moment. "But not right now. I have more important things to do. Lock him up," Blake told his men.

 

"You're a coward, Blake; you always have been. Why don't you do it now, or do you plan to wait until my back is turned again?" Travis taunted.

 

The guard began to pull Travis away, when suddenly alarms began to sound all over the base. Gunfire could be heard nearby.

 

"What's going on?" shouted Blake.

 

"We're being attacked by..." The man was killed before he finished his sentence. Federation troopers began pouring into the room. Tarrant jumped for a dead rebel's gun, but was knocked down by a trooper. Within seconds, everyone was either surrounded or dead.

 

"Your security seems to be lacking," Avon said through clenched teeth.

 

"No one knew we were here. They must've followed you," said Blake accusingly.

 

All arguments were forgotten when Servalan entered the room, with a trooper behind her carrying Orac. "You're both wrong," she said, carefully stepping over a body in the doorway. "Travis led me here."

 

"What are you talking about?" said Travis.

 

"Oh, that's right, you didn't know," Servalan said. "Your friend, Malachi, did a special favor for me when he rebuilt your knee. He added a homing beacon. I've been following your every move since you left Gaitlin," she said smiling at the expression on Travis's face. "You'll be interested to know that the good doctor and his assistant have been taken care of, despite your plans to warn them." She looked at him curiously. "Compassion, Travis? I didn't know you had it in you."

 

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, 'Sleer'," said Travis. "You could be surprised."

 

"Possibly, but I'm afraid we'll never know. I've made arrangements with your man, Evan, to return all the bodies back to Earth to collect the bounty. He was very agreeable." She motioned to the guards, and they lined Blake and the others against the wall. "Search him." She indicated Avon. They did, and one trooper handed something to Servalan. "Orac's key. Now my victory is complete." She spoke to Travis again. "I will be generous to you, Travis. I'll give you the pleasure of seeing the others die before I kill you." She stepped back, and the troopers readied themselves to fire. "Goodbye, Avon."

 

There was a sudden commotion as Travis shrugged free of his guards. To everyone's surprise, he raised his left arm and fired at Servalan, knocking her to the ground. For a stunned moment, everyone was still, then everything broke loose. Tarrant and Soolin jumped the two nearest troopers and grabbed their guns. They began firing on the Federation men with deadly efficiency as Avon, Blake, and Dayna grappled with the others.

 

Vila crawled to Servalan's side and pocketed Orac's key before dragging the computer to a corner and safety, he hoped. Travis was killing both Federation and rebel troops. Small explosions shook the room as equipment was hit, and smoke began to fill the air. Soon, everything was quiet. "Is everyone all right?" Avon asked. Tarrant, Dayna, and Soolin confirmed that they weren't injured.

 

Vila's voice came floating to him, "I'm okay, and I've got Orac. Can we get out of here now?"

 

Avon ignored him. "Blake? Blake! Where are you?"

 

Blake was on the other side of the room, untangling himself from the body of a dead trooper. "I'm fine, Avon," he began as he picked up a gun. "I just..." He stopped suddenly and whirled at a noise behind him, raising his gun.

 

"What's going on over there, Blake?" asked Vila, who had now joined the others. There was no answer. The group began moving toward where they had last heard Blake's voice.

 

The smoke suddenly cleared, and they saw what the problem was. Travis and Blake were facing each other: Travis with his arm pointed at Blake; Blake with his gun pointed at Travis.

 

Avon and Tarrant aimed their guns at Travis. "I wouldn't," he said, never taking his eyes off Blake. The crystal is primed. If you kill me, it will go off anyway."

 

"I thought you'd lost the use of your arm," Vila said, trying to defuse the situation.

 

"I did. But I learned a long time ago how to repair it myself. It's been fixed since soon after you foolishly locked me in my own cabin on the ship."

 

"It looks like we've a no-win situation," observed Soolin.

 

There was the sound of footsteps up the hall. Dayna ran to take a look. "Federation troopers! And a lot of them!" she reported.

 

"What do we do now?" exclaimed Vila. "Blake?"

 

Blake was silent as he and Travis continued their standoff.

 

Tarrant tried to talk to them. "In a few minutes, you won't have to worry about killing each other. Those troopers will take care of it for you." He turned to Travis. "A good officer knows when to fight, and when to retreat," he reminded him.

 

Travis was in a turmoil. He could kill Blake now and finally have his revenge, but at the cost of his own life. If Blake's crew didn't kill him, the troopers would. At one time, Travis would gladly have sacrificed himself to kill Blake, but after battling back from near-death twice, it was hard to accept death that easily, even if it meant Blake's death too. He slowly clenched his hand into a fist, then dropped his arm.

 

Dayna would have fired immediately, but Blake stopped her. "No!" he said, still keeping his gun trained on Travis. "A momentary truce?" he asked. Travis gazed steadily at him, but said nothing. "Come on, let's get out of here," said Blake. He led the way down another tunnel and the others covered Travis as they made their escape.

 

"Next time, Blake!" Travis shouted. Soon he was alone. The troops were nearly there. He started down the tunnel Blake and the others had taken, but stopped as he heard a low moan behind him. He saw Servalan's hand jerk slightly. So, she was still alive! He smiled to himself. His shot had taken away a good part of her right side. Let her be the one to suffer in the medical facilities for a while. He turned his back on her and left.

 

Travis finally found the shaft Blake had used for his escape. It was still open. As he climbed out, he saw his ship taking off in the distance. He smiled grimly, then spotted an unguarded ground transport, obviously the one used by Servalan. He started it up and headed back toward Evan's base. He had some unfinished business to take care of there. Then, he could continue his hunt for Blake and his crew. But next time, Travis promised himself, one of them would not survive the meeting.


	2. Extenuating Circumstances

Travis cautiously entered the dark alleyway. The informer had said that the man Travis was to meet was trustworthy, but since the only person Travis trusted was himself, that description had been meaningless. However, he had been promised information about Blake, and that was something Travis couldn't afford to let pass by.

 

He stood in a doorway and waited patiently for his contact. He heard someone entering the alley, and shrank back into the darkness. Better to let the other man reveal himself first. However, the man made no move to come any further into the alley. Then Travis heard a slight sound behind him. Whirling silently, he could barely make out three other people creeping towards his position.

 

He cursed himself. A trap! He had been so anxious to find Blake, that his legendary patience had been forgotten and he'd rushed headlong into this mess. He crept out of his hiding place and made his way toward the single man at the near entrance. Travis could easily handle him, then get out of the narrow passage.

 

But it wasn't quite that easy. The man raised a gun and fired it directly at Travis's position. Only his quick reflexes enabled Travis to leap aside. He took refuge behind a power generator. Blast! They apparently had on infrared goggles. Another man shot at him, and Travis immediately returned fire, aiming his arm at the light emitting from the laser. A pained grunt followed by the clatter of a body among the refuse told him he'd scored a hit. That, of course, didn't go over too well with his attackers. They began firing at him in earnest now. Travis huddled behind the generator, then stood quickly to fire again. But his action was ill-timed; a shot hit the power generator, causing it to explode.

 

Travis was knocked into the middle of the alley. He clutched his face as he pushed himself to his knees. It felt as if his face was on fire. Before he could stand, a boot struck him in the back and he tumbled face-down onto the filthy street. A knee was jammed into his back.

 

"Watch his left arm," someone said. "That's the dangerous one."

 

"I know that," a voice above Travis replied. He felt his arms being jerked behind his back and tied securely. "If he fires that thing now, the only person he'll hit is himself." The man laughed as he and his partners pulled Travis to his feet. "Let's get him back to camp." They dragged Travis to their dusty land vehicle, threw him into the back seat, and drove off.

 

About an hour later, they reached their destination. The sun was just starting to climb over the horizon as they unloaded their catch. "We got him!" one of the men sang out. Five other men came out of their tents to look over their latest prize.

 

"He doesn't look so mean to me," one of them commented.

 

"Where's Jared?" asked another.

 

The man who had bound Travis shoved him forward. "You don't think he's dangerous? He killed Jared." That news did not meet with approval.

 

"Maybe we should teach him it's not nice to kill our friends," the first man said.

 

"No, the better shape he's in, the more we'll get for him."

 

"Looks like he already got messed up anyway. Have you seen his face?"

 

A hand grabbed Travis's head and turned him around. He winced at the touch. "He's just burnt a little," said his captor. "Let's put him in with the others."

 

They led Travis to a makeshift cage and shoved him inside. He tripped over something and fell headlong to the ground. Someone gasped in pain. "You'd better see to his leg," a woman's voice said. "It's becoming infected." The only answer she got was the door clanging shut in her face. She turned to her companion, who had a nasty looking wound on his left leg. "Let me see," she said.

 

She pulled back the cloth and looked at the ragged wound. It was bleeding again. She retied the makeshift bandage and sat back, glancing at her patient. He was pale and drenched in sweat. Then she looked at their new cellmate. Her mouth flew open. "You!" she nearly shouted.

 

Travis had struggled to his knees. The woman's voice sounded familiar...

 

"What's wrong?" the wounded man asked. Then he, too, recognized the new prisoner. "Travis..." he hissed.

 

Travis got to his feet and stumbled back into the corner. He crouched slightly as he cocked his head in their direction. He knew that voice. "Blake."

 

Soolin had risen protectively in front of Blake. She started to approach Travis, then halted, puzzled.

 

"What's the matter?" Blake asked urgently.

 

Soolin frowned. Travis was facing her, but not looking at her. She waved a hand in front of his face, but Travis didn't flinch. She turned to Blake. "He's blind!" she told him.

 

"What?!" Blake exclaimed.

 

Travis began to get a little nervous. He was trapped, blinded, and trussed up, in a cage with his worst enemy, who was not alone. He knew now that the woman was the lady gunfighter from Avon's crew. He began rubbing the ropes that bound his hands against the bars, searching for a sharp or roughened edge, as he talked. "So my information was correct. It's a shame they got you before I did, Blake," he taunted.

 

"Not too much of a shame," Blake replied. "If they hadn't captured us, you'd be all alone now."

 

"Who are they, anyway?" Travis asked, almost conversationally.

 

Blake was too surprised at hearing civil talk from Travis to answer. Soolin replied, "Bounty hunters, obviously. I think they're working for Servalan."

 

"Who else would want us both so badly? How is it that they managed to get you and not the others?"

 

Blake finally found his voice. "We're here looking for a new base. The bounty hunters posed as rebels. They wanted to meet with us, but I'm not so naive that I trusted them. I did underestimate them, however. They shot me and captured Soolin, but the others got away. I was hoping they would have rescued us by now."

 

"Still the same trusting fool, Blake? Your friend, Avon, is probably long gone by now. He has no real loyalty to you," Travis sneered.

 

"It would be best for you if he has gone," Soolin informed him. "Avon doesn't think too highly of you. I would hate for him to find you in this condition."

 

"I'm sure you would," Travis said sarcastically.

 

Blake shifted his position and half-stifled a groan. "Don't move too much," Soolin admonished. "You'll make the bleeding worse."

 

Blake sighed heavily and leaned his head back against the bare. "It won't matter after much longer," he said pessimistically.

 

The day wore on slowly as the scorching sun rose high overhead. The heat was tortuous. Travis had given up on freeing himself and huddled miserably in his corner. His shoulders were sending waves of pain through him, while his right arm had gone numb. Perspiration soaked his clothing, and his hair was matted to his head by sweat. The heat of the sun made the burns on his face hurt worse than before.

 

Blake and Soolin fared little better. Swarms of insects clustered around the bloody cloth on Blake's leg, but he was too far gone to notice. Soolin futilely tried to swat them away.

 

The sun had just reached its zenith when Travis raised his head and listened intently. Soolin noticed and asked, "What is it?"

 

"I'm not sure...it sounds like something heading this way."

 

Soon Soolin heard it too. She stood and squinted, peering into the distance. "You were right," she told Travis. "It looks like some of those land vehicles, coming right toward us."

 

By now the bounty hunters had been roused and come running out of their tents. "It's Keiler's gang!" one of them shouted. The men immediately armed themselves and took cover. The three vehicles roared into camp, loaded with men who began firing on the bounty hunters.

 

One of Keiler's men leapt from his cover and ran to the cage. By now Blake was conscious enough to know what was going on. Travis was again trying to free his arms. The man shot open the door. "All right, you three. Out! You belong to Keiler now."

 

Soolin bent to help Blake stand. "I can't get him out," she said. "He's been wounded and can't walk."

 

The man cautiously entered, grabbed Blake with his free hand, and started to drag him out. Blake suddenly sprang into action, landing a blow on the man's head and knocking him to the ground. Soolin grabbed the fallen gun and finished the job.

 

Blake looked up at her. "Well done," he complimented, then he looked at the battle raging behind them. "But we're not quite out of trouble yet. And I don't think I'll make it too far in this condition."

 

"I have an idea," Soolin said. She ran back inside the cage to Travis, who was on the ground trying to avoid getting hit by stray shots. She grabbed his arm and put the gun to his cheek. He froze. "We're in a bit of a mess," she said. "Those men are fighting it out over who gets us. Blake can't walk; you can't see. Here's what I propose. You be his legs, we'll be your eyes. We can escape together, but we'll never make it alone. Do you understand?" Travis nodded. Soolin went behind him and untied his hands, then led him to Blake.

 

"Come on," she said. She pulled Blake to his feet and pushed Travis beside him. "Hang onto him," she told Blake. "And tell him where to go. We're getting out of here." With one last look at the carnage behind her, she took Blake's other arm, and the three of them moved as quickly as they could away from the camp and into the desert.

 

* * *

 

The fighting had finally ended. Keiler and his men had defeated the bounty hunters, but not without losses. Seven of their men were dead; all the bounty hunters were, or would be soon; and all the land rovers had been destroyed. But there was no time to celebrate. Their prizes had escaped. They found the man Soolin had killed lying beside the empty cage. Keiler kicked the body savagely, then turned on the survivors. "I want those three found! I didn't come all this way for nothing. Tracker!" One of the men stepped forward and looked expectantly at Keiler. "Find their trail. We're going after them. The rest of you men get food and water. We'll have to go on foot."

 

While Tracker scouted about, the others got their supplies and gathered around Keiler. "Here!" Tracker suddenly called out. "They're heading east."

 

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Keiler bellowed. "Let's go!" They began heading in the direction Soolin, Blake, and Travis had taken not long before.

 

* * *

 

As they trudged through the desert, Travis observed, "We're leaving quite a trail for them. They're most likely already following after us."

 

"I know," said Soolin.

 

Travis bit back his initial retort. "I assume you have some sort of plan?"

 

"The desert ends just ahead," Soolin replied. "We'll be going into a mountainous region. It's pretty hard to follow a trail through rocks."

 

"And harder still to climb them, especially if you're having to drag someone along with you," Travis said.

 

"And impossible to climb for a blind man," Soolin returned. "You'd better keep close to Blake; you might lose your footing, and that would be too bad."

 

Travis just grunted and shifted Blake's position slightly. Feeling had finally returned to his right arm, which was now tingling as the blood resumed its flow.

 

They reached the foot of the mountains. Blake looked up and snorted, "For some reason, Soolin, I don't think I was cut out for this sort of thing." They stood for a few moments, catching their breath.

 

Soolin walked around, surveying the base of the rocks. "I've found a place I think we can climb," she said. "I'll go first, and help you," she told Blake. "You can bring up the rear and catch us in case we fall," she said to Travis, who was not amused. They began climbing.

 

The first twenty feet were hardest, where the going was most steep. After a while, Blake was on the verge of staging a sit-down strike and demanding Soolin go on without him, when the land leveled off somewhat. They all thankfully sat down for a quick rest. The sun was setting, and it was rapidly getting cooler.

 

"We're going to have to find shelter soon," Blake said tiredly. "No matter what you say, we can't negotiate this terrain in the dark."

 

"I hadn't noticed it getting dark," Travis said scathingly.

 

Soolin glared at him. "You're welcome to go on your own."

 

"Those bounty hunters aren't going to stop," Travis reminded her.

 

"They'll have to, when they reach the mountains. They're not foolish enough to attempt that climb at night," Blake said. "We'd better get going."

 

Soolin helped Blake to his feet. He put one arm around Travis's shoulder and the other around Soolin's shoulders. "If Avon could see us now..." he muttered. They once more started walking upwards.

 

* * *

 

A lone land rover rolled up to the deserted camp, and the occupants cautiously jumped out and surveyed the destruction. Three of them, two men and a woman, began to walk through the camp, while the other man hovered near the rover's hatch.

 

Tarrant squatted down and searched for the pulse of the man at his feet. He was dead. "What hit this place?" Tarrant wondered.

 

Avon didn't answer, and kept walking. A cry from Dayna got their attention. "This one's still alive," she shouted. Tarrant and Avon ran to her. She was kneeling beside one of the bounty hunters, who had been shot in the chest. He wouldn't be alive much longer.

 

"What happened here?" Avon asked. "Where are the two people you captured?"

 

The man stared blearily at Avon. "Some water," he gasped.

 

Dayna stood and called to Vila, "Bring some water, Vila, and be quick!" Vila disappeared inside the rover for a few seconds, then came running towards them with a container of water. Dayna took it and gave some to the man.

 

"Hey, not so much!" Vila exclaimed, grabbing it back. "That's all we have."

 

Tarrant grabbed the bounty hunter's shoulders and shook him slightly. "What happened here?" he repeated Avon's question.

 

"Keiler's gang," the man whispered. "Tried to get our prisoners. But they escaped. Headed east, I heard them say." His eyes closed.

 

Avon stood and started walking back to their vehicle. "Let's go," he ordered. "We don't have much time. It's getting dark."

 

"What about him?" Vila motioned to the bounty hunter.

 

"He's dying. There's nothing we can do for him," Avon replied without stopping. Tarrant and Dayna followed him.

 

Vila dawdled behind. "But..." he began.

 

Avon cut him off. "You can stay here and play good neighbor if you wish. We are going to find Blake and Soolin, if it's not too late."

 

Vila took one last look at the dying man, then ran to join the others. Tarrant started the vehicle and they roared off, heading east.

 

* * *

 

Blake, Soolin, and Travis had finally managed, in the last hours of daylight, to take shelter in a small cave. "I'll take the first watch," Soolin said. "Blake, do you think you could handle the second one?"

 

"Yes," he answered. "My leg's gone numb; it doesn't hurt now."

 

"Then the infection is spreading," Travis said matter-of-factly. He laid back on the cool rock floor. "I don't suppose you'll want me to take a watch, will you?"

 

Soolin didn't bother to answer, but went and sat in the entrance. "You'd better rest while you can," she said. "We have to leave at first light."

 

* * *

 

Keiler listened as one of his men reported to him. "We can't do it, sir. We'll be lucky to climb that in daylight, but not tonight."

 

"If those three can climb it, then we can!" Keiler shouted.

 

"Yes, sir," the man trembled. "But they've had to stop for the night too. We know one of them is wounded."

 

"Set up camp," Keiler growled. "We leave at daybreak."

 

* * *

 

Travis, a light sleeper at best, awoke immediately when he heard Soolin moving into the cave. She woke Blake and helped him to the entrance before she settled down for her short nap. Travis listened as Blake moved into a more comfortable position, grunting with pain as he did so.

 

"I thought you said it had stopped hurting," Travis said quietly.

 

Blake jumped, then turned around almost guiltily. "It had," he admitted. "But it's started up again."

 

"The last stage of the infection," Travis said. "If it's not taken care of very soon, you'll lose your leg, possibly even die."

 

"How do you know so much about it?" Blake asked irritably.

 

"Why do you think they had to amputate my arm?"

 

There was silence for a long moment. "I suppose you could think of this as some sort of revenge," Blake finally said.

 

"I could," Travis agreed. "But I'm not. At the moment, revenge is the last thing on my mind. You realize we don't have a chance, don't you?"

 

"Yes," Blake sighed. "But I don't intend to make it easy for them."

 

"Then make it easy for me," Soolin interrupted. "I'd like to get a little rest before we all go out in a blaze of glory tomorrow."

 

"Sorry,". Blake apologized. He returned to watching the dark mountainside. Travis settled back down, but didn't go to sleep again.

 

 

 

As soon as it was light enough to see, they were on their way. "I've been thinking," Travis said. "If there's a way we could do it without being seen, we should double back and return to the camp. With any luck, they would roam around these mountains for a while looking for us. That would give us more of a start on them. Besides, we need food and water."

 

"I don't fancy another trip through that desert," said Soolin.

 

"Neither do I, but it's better than walking around here waiting for them to find us," Blake said. "I say we should try it."

 

"Do you realize that you and Travis just agreed on something?" Soolin pointed out.

 

"Well, I won't mention it again if you won't," Blake grunted. "We should start to circle around now. I only hope we can find another way down."

 

"I think my sight is returning," Travis said hopefully some time later.

 

"Oh?" Soolin didn't like the sound of that.

 

"I can see light, but that's all," Travis explained. "Don't worry, I have no intention of turning on you yet."

 

"Yet," muttered Blake under his breath. His throat was dry.

 

"Careful," Soolin suddenly warned. "We're crossing a narrow ledge." They edged out on it, walking sideways so they could still support Blake. They were nearly to the other side when, without warning, part of the ledge fell away from underneath Travis. He felt himself falling and frantically grabbed at the nearest thing he could, which happened to be Blake's shirt. Blake went down, and nearly over the edge too, but Soolin held him back.

 

Travis felt his legs dangling over nothingness as he scrabbled to latch onto something with his free hand. He managed a precarious hold on a rock.

 

Blake felt a wave of nausea sweep over him as his leg hit the rocks. Fighting to remain conscious, he braced himself against a large, hopefully solid, stone. "Travis!" he said urgently. "You have to let go of me. You'll pull us all over!"

 

Travis laughed, slightly hysterically. "I don't intend to die alone, Blake!"

 

"Listen," Blake nearly shouted. "Just release my shirt, then I can get into a better position to help you. We can't pull you up like this!" Travis still held tightly. Blake cursed as he slipped closer to the edge. "Use your head!" he shouted. Travis suddenly let go of Blake's shirt, and Blake immediately sat up and motioned to Soolin. "Quickly, help me," he told her. She positioned herself behind Blake, who stretched out his hand. "Now, give me your hand!" he ordered Travis.

 

Travis reached upward. "I can't see it!" he cried. He felt his fingers cramping and losing their grip on the rock.

 

"To the left, to the left," Blake directed. Travis moved his arm. "A little more...there!" Blake grasped Travis's hand. "Now, Soolin, help me pull." With one gigantic effort, they dragged Travis over the edge onto solid rock. They all lay gasping for a few minutes, then Soolin sat up.

 

"You realize you owe Blake your life," she told Travis.

 

"I owe him nothing!" Travis spat.

 

"He's right," Blake said. "I'd say we're even now." Travis didn't reply.

 

Soolin wearily got to her feet. "We need to get moving," she said. After a few moments, Travis stood, then they got Blake to his feet and moved on.

 

* * *

 

"Quiet!" Tracker ordered. In the sudden silence, stones could be heard clattering down the mountain. "It came from over there." He pointed to his left.

 

"They're trying to get around us," Keiler said. "Move out!" He and his men started running.

 

* * *

 

Blake stumbled and fell, nearly taking Travis and Soolin with him. "Go on," he gasped. "I can't make it."

 

Soolin quickly knelt beside him. The bandage had been lost on the ledge, and the wound was swollen, covered with dirt, and bleeding slightly. "Don't stop now," she said. "We're nearly to the bottom." Blake didn't seem to hear her. "Help me get him up," she told Travis. He was about to comply when a shot suddenly rang out.

 

"Too late," he told her.

 

"Come on," she urged. "We can hide behind those boulders." They dragged Blake to the shelter, and Soolin watched as eight men began converging on them. She drew her gun and fired, killing one of them. The others quickly dove for cover.

 

"Why don't you give up?" Keiler shouted. "You're worth more to us alive, but we can take you back dead too."

 

Soolin answered by firing at him. She saw some of the men circling to get behind them.

 

"What's happening?" Travis asked anxiously.

 

"We're surrounded, that's what," Soolin told him grimly. "If you have any brilliant plans, now would be a good time to unveil them."

 

Travis pulled Blake into a sitting position. "Help me!" he said. "I can fire at them, but you'll have to help me aim."

 

Blake guided Travis's arm into position. "Ready, fire!" he instructed. Travis did, and one more man fell dead to the ground. "Now, steady...steady...fire!" The shot missed, but sent a man diving back for cover.

 

"I think I can see blurred shapes," Travis said, squinting. "How are we doing?"

 

"Don't ask," Blake advised. "Fire!" he ordered suddenly. With a scream, a man fell from a cliff above them.

 

Then something hit the ground in their midst. "Watch out!" Soolin cried. "Explosive!" They scattered out into the open as the bomb exploded, pulverizing the boulder. Keiler and his man had them surrounded in seconds.

 

Keiler took the gun from Soolin and smiled. "It's a pity you're worth so much," he purred. "I'm tempted to keep you for myself."

 

"It's a pity I don't have that gun in my hand right now," Soolin countered. "I'm tempted to blow your brains out."

 

Keiler slapped her, then instructed his men to tie the three up. He moved to stand in front of Travis. "I think we should disarm you, literally. I dislike the thought of having to worry about that built-in weapon during the journey ahead. You," he pointed out two men. "Get that prosthetic arm off him."

 

They dragged Travis, who was struggling madly, aside and ripped the shirt from around his shoulder. "How do we get it off?" one of them asked, staring at the metal that blended into Travis's flesh.

 

Keiler shrugged. "Be creative," he said disinterestedly. One of the men pulled out a knife and had just started to cut around the metal when, without a sound, he dropped dead. Keiler looked around wildly as another of his men died before him, a neat hole appearing in his chest. The last two closed in around Keiler as a voice floated to them from the surrounding mountains.

 

"Unless you have a desire to join them, I would advise you to drop your weapons and step away from those three."

 

"Avon!" Blake muttered with relief. One of the men sprinted away suddenly and he, too, was killed.

 

"Only two of you left," Avon shouted. "There are more of us than that."

 

"How do I know you won't kill us anyway?" Keiler asked.

 

"You have my word, which is all you'll get," Avon replied. "We only want Blake and Soolin."

 

"Then I get to keep the Federation renegade?" Keiler asked craftily.

 

"No!" Blake shouted. "He comes with us."

 

"Are you out of your mind?" Avon sounded incredulous.

 

"This is no time for argument, Avon," Blake said.

 

There was a moment of silence, then Avon finally spoke. "Very well. All three for your life," he offered Keiler. "Leave now, and don't turn back, or we will kill you."

 

Keiler and the last man backed cautiously away, then ran off. Within moments, Avon, Tarrant, Vila, and Dayna had clambered down the mountain. They unloosed Blake's and Soolin's bonds. Blake smiled weakly. "In the nick of time, as always," he said.

 

"Let's hope so," Avon muttered as he examined the wound on Blake's leg. "Vila, give me the medical kit." He took it and carefully cleaned the wound. "You need to see a medic," he told Blake. "It's very infected."

 

"So I've been told." Blake sighed wearily and lay back. "But I can't walk down this mountain."

 

"We'll get you down," Tarrant said. Avon took Blake's shoulders and Tarrant picked up his feet. Dayna took the water jug, giving some to Blake and Soolin and, reluctantly, to Travis. They started down the mountain.

 

Travis hadn't moved. "Well, go on," Vila urged in a fit of courage. The sight of Travis bound inspired gallant feelings in him.

 

"You'll have to guide him," Soolin said. "He can't see."

 

"Me?" Vila asked, deflated.

 

"He's your prisoner, Vila," Dayna said. "Let's move."

 

Vila sighed a martyred sigh and pushed Travis ahead of him. "Don't try anything," he warned.

 

"I wouldn't think of it," Travis informed him. "Not against you." For some reason, Vila got the feeling he was being laughed at.

 

By the time they had gotten to the base of the mountain, Blake had lost consciousness. They carefully laid him in the rover, then sped back to town. "Who can we take him to?" Vila worried. "I wouldn't trust anyone around here."

 

Travis finally spoke up. "There is one medic," he offered. "He used to be Federation, but he went underground some time ago."

 

"No doubt he will do anything you ask of him," Avon said snidely.

 

"No doubt," Travis countered. "I helped him escape. He was one of the medics who saved my life. I couldn't let Servalan kill him too."

 

"What makes you think he'll help Blake?" asked Tarrant.

 

Travis laughed. "The famed leader of the resistance movement? Jonas would count it an honor. He's turned into quite a rebel since he deserted."

 

"And you still associate with him?" Avon said disbelievingly. "Doesn't that go against your training as a Federation officer?"

 

"I'm no longer with the Federation," Travis snapped. "And you would be surprised at how many resistance people I know. I'm fighting Servalan too."

 

"And Blake," Dayna said. "What do they think about that?"

 

"A lot of them think Blake was killed on Gauda Prime. Since we share the same goals now, they've slowly taken me in."

 

"Foolish of them," Avon said. "The rabble are always too willing to trust."

 

Soolin cut in. "Where is this medic?" Travis gave them directions, and they soon arrived at a small house. Avon and Tarrant led Travis to the door and knocked.

 

"Who's there?" a voice called.

 

"It's Travis," Travis answered.

 

The door flew open. "Travis! It's good to..." The man stopped talking as he noticed Travis's condition and the guns in Avon's and Tarrant's hands. "What's going on?"

 

"We have a patient for you," Travis said. Vila, Dayna, and Soolin carried Blake forward.

 

Jonas's jaw dropped. "Is that who I think it is?" he exclaimed.

 

"Let's get inside," Travis urged. They all filed inside where Blake was laid on a table in the surgery. Jonas moved behind Travis and began to untie him.

 

Avon brought his gun to bear. "Leave him," he ordered.

 

Jonas glared at him. "If you want me to help your friend, then you'll show a little respect and compassion for mine." He finished untying the ropes, then took some ointment from a shelf and put it in Travis's hand. "Rub this on your wrist," he instructed. "I'll see to your face and shoulder after I take care of Blake."

 

Travis could see well enough to find his way into the outer office, locate a chair, and sit in it, ignoring the guns aimed at him. They all waited in silence as the medic fought to save Blake's leg, and his life. When Jonas finally stepped out of his surgery, everyone looked at him expectantly.

 

"He'll be fine after a few weeks' rest," he told them. "But you won't be able to move him for a few days. He's too weak, and his leg is still in bad shape."

 

"What are we going to do all that time?" Vila asked.

 

"I know some people," Jonas said. "They have no love for the Federation and would do anything to undermine it. They would be glad to house you while Blake recovers."

 

"Can we see Blake?" Soolin asked. Jonas nodded. "Then we need to discuss this with him," she said. They filed into the surgery.

 

"Not too long," Jonas cautioned.

 

Avon was the last to enter. He looked at Travis before he closed the door. "If you try to come into this room, you're dead."

 

"Go ahead and have your meeting," Travis scoffed. "I have no interest in your 'secret' plans."

 

Jonas came and stood before Travis. "What's happened to you now?" he asked.

 

"Not much," Travis replied. "Just burned, blinded, and nearly amputated."

 

Jonas sighed as he examined Travis's face. "You do seem to get into a lot of trouble," he said. He held up three fingers. "How many do you see?" Travis squinted, then took a guess. "Three?"

 

"Good," Jonas said. "Just temporary blindness caused by whatever burnt your face." He took a cloth, soaked it in medicine, and began carefully cleaning Travis's face. "This could hurt a little." Travis flinched but remained still until Jonas was finished. Then the doctor looked at the wound around the prosthetic arm. "Amputated, you say?

 

"They were trying," Travis replied.

 

"I'm going to have to sew this up," Jonas told him. He cut Travis's shirt off and numbed his shoulder before stitching it up and bandaging it. "I think you'll live," he finally pronounced.

 

"Thank you," Travis said.

 

Soon Avon and the others came back into the outer room. "We have decided, against my better judgment, to take you up on your offer. But one of us will be here at all times with Blake," Avon said.

 

"Good," Jonas said. He contacted his friends, and they soon came and took everyone but Avon, who was taking the first shift, with them. "I can move a bed in there, if you want," Jonas told Avon.

 

"A chair will be fine," Avon replied.

 

Jonas turned to Travis. "The spare room is yours, of course. I take it you'll want it?"

 

Travis nodded. "It's been a rough past few days," he said. Exhaustion was finally catching up with him, and the fact that Jonas had given him a relaxant didn't help.

 

Jonas led him to the room. "There's fresh clothing in the closet," he told Travis. "Can you manage?"

 

"Yes," Travis replied. "I trust you'll watch my back for me?"

 

"Don't worry," Jonas assured him. "I'll make sure Avon stays with Blake." He left.

 

Travis closed and locked the door, then shed his filthy clothes and pulled on some clean ones. He collapsed on the bed.  _I need a shower_ , he thought to himself, but before he could think any more about it, he was fast asleep.

 

When Travis woke the next morning, the sun was already high in the sky. He looked at his chronometer. That late?! He got out of bed quickly, then stood for a moment as he paid for his haste with dizziness. "I'm getting too old for this," he groaned as he went to take a shower.

 

Since he'd already overslept, he spared himself a few extra minutes under the warm water. Then he dressed, ran his fingers through his hair in lieu of a comb, and went into the kitchen.

 

Travis found his host sitting at the table, drinking coffee. "Care for some breakfast?" Jonas asked.

 

"I'll get it," Travis said. As he started to prepare the food, Jonas noticed how he favored his left arm.

 

"Is your shoulder bothering you?" he inquired.

 

"A little," Travis hedged.

 

"Let me get that for you," Jonas said, starting to rise from his seat.

 

"Jonas!" Travis said loudly. He turned back to preparing his meal.

 

Jonas smiled and returned to his seat. "Sorry. I'd forgotten what a stubborn fool you could be."

 

Travis had just sat down to eat when Tarrant wandered in. "Is this a private party, or can anyone join in?" he asked.

 

"Help yourself," Jonas offered.

 

"When did you get here?" Travis asked Tarrant.

 

"I took over a few hours ago. Don't tell me you were still asleep!"

 

Travis, very faintly, blushed. "Those blasted relaxants..." he muttered darkly.

 

"What's that?" Jonas asked innocently. Travis glared at him.

 

Tarrant sat at the table. "Do you really work with rebel groups, or was that just a story to get Avon to believe you?" he wondered, looking at Travis.

 

"I do know a few," Travis replied.

 

There was silence as they finished their meals. Tarrant leaned back in his chair, a satisfied look on his face. "Delicious," he said. He peered out of the corners of his eyes at Travis. "You know, I've been thinking. Since you have connections with groups we don't know of, and we obviously know a lot that you could never get in contact with..."

 

"No," Travis interrupted. He got up and placed his dishes in the cleaning unit, turning his back on Tarrant.

 

"No, what?" asked Tarrant.

 

"No to whatever foolish plan you've dreamed up," Travis snapped.

 

"You wouldn't know what I was thinking if you hadn't been considering it yourself," Tarrant said smugly.

 

"Shouldn't you be watching after your beloved leader, Blake?" Travis growled.

 

"Oh, he's fine," Tarrant said. "In fact, he sent me out for a while. Said he was getting tired of being on display all the time."

 

"Then perhaps I should go look after him," Travis said, softly but menacingly.

 

"Point taken," Tarrant said. "But you should know one thing," he told Travis as he walked out the kitchen door. "I'm not the only one who thinks this way."

 

"He's right, Travis," Jonas said after Tarrant had left.

 

"Not you too?"

 

"Think of it," Jonas rushed on, excited. "With your knowledge of the Federation, and Blake's various contacts throughout the galaxy...the possibilities are endless!"

 

Travis sighed and sat back down. "It wouldn't work," he said.

 

"Why not?" exclaimed Jonas.

 

"There's too much between us," Travis explained. "Every time I think of Blake, I'm reminded of this," he pointed to the eyepatch, "and this," he extended his left arm.

 

"I'm sure Blake's memories aren't very pleasant, either," said Jonas.

 

"Precisely," pointed out Travis. "How can you work with someone you've hated for years and vowed to kill? We'd never be able to turn our backs on each other."

 

"People can change," Jonas argued. "Just before your 'accident,' you were planning on leaving the service. You only stayed in so you could get revenge on Blake. Who knows? If you'd quit the Federation a few weeks earlier than you'd planned, you might have been fighting on Blake's side now, anyway. The Federation never did anything good for you. Now's your opportunity to fight back and have a real chance!"

 

Travis rose and left the room without speaking. "At least think about it!" Jonas called after the retreating figure.

 

The next few days were uneventful. Blake was soon well enough to venture outside his room, a little help. Travis avoided him like the plague. Then, one night as Travis was preparing for bed, someone knocked on his door. "Who is it?" he called.

 

"Blake," came the unexpected reply. Travis was silent for a long while. "Are you going to let me in?" Blake's voice was strained. "I can't stand for much longer."

 

Travis slowly opened the door and returned to sit on the chair. Blake limped in carefully and nearly collapsed on the edge of the bed. It took him a few minutes to recover from his efforts. "I didn't think you'd let me in," he admitted.

 

Travis glanced out the open doorway. "Where's your bodyguard?" he asked.

 

"I asked Dayna to let me see you alone," Blake replied. "I wanted to talk to you." Travis looked at him expectantly. "I'm not going to apologize to you," Blake began. "And I don't expect any apologies from you. I did what I had to do in that situation, as I'm sure you did too. I can't bring back your eye or arm. You can't bring back all the friends I lost that day. But I'm willing to forget that if you are. The Federation did those things to us. We should be fighting them, not each other. I've talked it over with the others. They've almost unanimously agreed to let you join us on a trial basis."

 

Travis raised his eyebrow. "Almost unanimously?"

 

Blake smiled slightly. "Avon had his misgivings."

 

"I'm sure he did."

 

"But he was outvoted. Soolin and Tarrant think you'd be a useful ally; Dayna and Vila are at least willing to give you a chance. What do you say?"

 

What do I say? Travis thought to himself. He began rubbing his artificial arm, then noticed what he was doing and stopped. He looked up. Blake was staring at him, awaiting his answer. "You'll have to let me think it over," he finally said.

 

"Well, that's a start, at least," Blake smiled. "We'll be leaving the planet in two days. Dayna!" he called. "Could you come and help me?" Dayna appeared instantly; she had obviously been waiting nearby. The two left the room and Travis locked the door. It was a long time before he went to sleep that night.

 

* * *

 

"Thank you for all your help." Blake shook Jonas's hand as he prepared to board the pursuit ship. "Be sure to express our gratitude to your friends too."

 

"My pleasure," Jonas smiled. "Just be sure to take care of your leg, and stay out of trouble."

 

"Ha!" Avon scoffed. The others ignored him as they started boarding the small ship.

 

"How do you all fit in there?" Jonas asked.

 

"We don't," Vila called over his shoulder. Tarrant pushed him inside.

 

Blake was looking back toward Jonas's house. "Well, uh, it's a little cramped, but we manage." He sighed and slowly turned to walk up the ramp. "Good luck," he said.

 

"I wonder if you have room for one more," a voice at his shoulder asked. He turned to see Travis standing behind him.

 

"There's always room for one more," Blake said carefully.

 

"There should be," Travis said. "After all, it's my ship."

 

" **Our**  ship," Avon, who was standing in the rampway, emphasized. Blake waved him inside. Avon, after a compulsory glare at Travis and smirk at Blake, entered the ship. Blake limped after him.

 

"I'd like a few minutes with Jonas," Travis said. Blake nodded and disappeared inside.

 

"So you're really going to do it?" Jonas asked, smiling.

 

"I'm going to try it," Travis corrected.

 

"You won't regret it," Jonas told him.

 

"Let's hope not." Travis started up the ramp.

 

"Travis!" Jonas called. Travis turned to look at him. Neither one of them spoke, but they didn't need to. Travis nodded slightly and entered the ship. As the hatch was closing, Jonas faintly heard the voices inside:

 

"Put your things in this locker," came Blake's voice.

 

"But that one's mine!" Vila complained.

 

"You can share it with him," Dayna said impatiently.

 

"Why don't you share yours with him?" came Vila's rejoinder.

 

"Vila, shut up!" said Tarrant and Avon simultaneously.

 

Just as the hatch clicked shut, Travis's dry voice floated from the ship: "Is it too late for me to change my mind?" Jonas laughed as the ship took off. Heaven help the Federation now.

 


End file.
